I Am Lord Voldemort?
by Spectralroses
Summary: A genre savvy but ignorant of canon OC insert into Voldemort right after the murder of James Potter. Greed replacing pride at the helm of a terrorist group just might change the course of history. After all, the magical world is full of potential waiting to be exploited. (Inspired by The Evil Overlord List and 48 Laws of Power.)
1. The Potters' Home

_Russian original at ficbook: /readfic/5773773_

 _Updates every 1-2 weeks_ _._

 _Notes and warnings:_

 _-The protagonist is an OOC, more sensible version of Voldemort inspired by The Evil Overlord List and Robert Greene's 48 Laws of Power. He is still an irredeemable villain and a terrorist._

 _-The magic system is slightly changed from canon._

 _-Actions and opinions of the characters do not reflect the author's views._

 _-All characters are limited to their respective POVs: they can be mistaken about facts, exaggerate, lie shamelessly or hold delusional beliefs. Voldemort is an unreliable narrator._

 _-The pairing is not central to the story and only comes into play after 200k+ words._

 _-Content warnings:_ _torture, murder, human experimentation, human sacrifice,_ _character deaths, canon bigotry, all manner of manipulation._

Chapter 1

The Potters' Home

I was having a strange dream: I'm standing in some room, wearing a robe and pointing a wooden stick at a corpse. My entire body itches. Skin feels like melting wax. The insides feel like icebergs crashing into one another. The absurdity of it all is too much, so I laugh. But the sound that comes out almost makes me faint: any super villain would sell his soul for this laugh. I realize this is not my voice and run to the mirror. The face staring back isn't mine either. My body is slowly shifting from something humanoid to a human only vaguely resembling me. It feels as if pieces are melding together inside me. Then comes the pain. I fall to my knees and scream. But it vanishes after a short moment, leaving behind only a headache. And I realize this is not a dream...

I am Lord Voldemort! Well, not exactly. Foreign memories flooded my mind. Tom Riddle, also known as Voldemort, tried many methods to achieve immortality and modify his body. It turned out some of them did not play nice together- for example, horcruxes and implanting fragments of the Veil of Death into the body. Maybe the remaining sliver was ejected and replaced with a random soul. Maybe my soul merged with the part left in this body. I didn't know what happened, but the result was obvious: his memories, reflexes and abilities coupled with my consciousness. And this was good. The body was completely under my control.

Though, this raised an interesting question about horcruxes. Were they parts of Riddle or me? Would they still serve their function and save me from death? Until I get a chance to check, I better act with the assumption that I am mortal...

Question: what now? The best option would be to forget about everything and run. But I was an international criminal. I wouldn't be welcome anywhere. Tom traveled a lot in his youth, recruiting supporters everywhere... Wizards were conservative for a reason: their magical power was supported by local magic sources. The British Isles had three large sources: Hogwarts, the Ministry of Magic and Stonehenge. Each source produced unique ambient magic, the differences between them increasing with distance. Using a foreign source was hard. It usually lead to much slower regeneration of magical energy and lowering of magic reserve while staying in an adverse area... Simple travel did not present much of a problem, but fighting for your life did: after depleting the reserves, you recovered exponentially slower. If right now I could go all out every other day, in India it would slow down to once every 30 days at best. (That's why there was a Triwizard and not an All-wizard tournament. The British sources were at least somewhat felt throughout Europe, allowing Beauxbatons, Durmstrang and Hogwarts to compete with months long breaks between events for recovery.)

In my case, moving was a death sentence. I would weaken as soon as I leave Britain. The younger and weaker the wizard, the easier it was to adapt to a new source. I could get used to it... after 20 years or so, but I would get killed long before that.

Surrender to Dumbledore? And he will understand and forgive? He will kill me! The most I could hope for was a cell in Nurmengard next to Grindelwald. Riddle personally killed thousands of muggles and hundreds of wizards. People like that did not get forgiven. Nobody would believe my remorse.

Lead the aristocracy towards peace? I was not omnipotent. I was their leader, not owner. The dark mark was a beacon and a badge; I could not control or kill them through it. If I went against their ideology, they might unite to kill me. And Riddle's horcruxes were likely useless now.

It looked like I had to play the villain. No radical changes. At least not immediately, before I could properly assess the situation.

What were my assets? I was one the world's most powerful wizards. I had power, knowledge, skills, reflexes, improved body. The Mind Arts granted good memory and quick thinking but also some detachment and lack of emotion. The wand still worked but not as well as before; this needed to be fixed. I also had about a hundred Death Eaters. And twenty of the most trusted Inner Circle.

What was against me? Dumbledore. Older than me. Stronger. More experienced. Defeated Dark Lords while I was still in school, attending his classes. He also sat atop the strongest magical source in England and had a phoenix familiar with healing tears and the ability to apparate through wards. He would crush me. We fought twice. One time I retreated covered by a live shield of muggles; the second time - a live shield of wizards. He also had his Order of the Phoenix. About two hundred wizards of various levels. Two dozens of highly trained, valuable members like the Longbottoms. Hundreds of fans and cannon fodder from recent Hogwarts graduates. Two hundred Aurors. And a thousand ministry workers, though they may as well be plankton with wands.

Maybe I should just Avada myself right now? No, at least give this life a try first...

It was time to get to work. Get off the floor. Pick up the wand. The shame! Lily could have easily escaped or slit my throat with a kitchen knife while I was howling and writhing on the floor. What a headline that would have made: The Dark Lord Defeated by Potter Housewife! Good thing she was in shock and barricaded herself in the nursery. How much time did I spend thinking? Forty seconds? I needed a plan.

I transfigured James' body into a rock and put it in my pocket. Why? I'll find some use for it! Then transfigured a copy of his body from air. Using magic felt instinctive, and the energy expended on non-verbal NEWT-level spells was well below regeneration rate even with an ill-suited wand.

I walked up to the second floor and pointed my wand at the door. Not even a spell- just my will, and the door opened.

Lily Potter stood wandless in front of the baby's bed, shielding him with her body. She was young and beautiful. No wonder Severus desired her. Bright green eyes and thick dark red hair really stood out.

"Please," she begged, "Not Harry! Please, I will do anything!"

The girl was panicking. She heard me laugh and scream. But I had no plans to kill her or her child. First, the thrice-damned prophecy. What if I killed them and vanished like Riddle? Second, Lily might be useful. Not in a sexual way, of course; at least not to her husband's murderer, known maniac and psychopath. Also, Snape will probably try to kill me if I took his woman... And she would be detractive to my status anyway. Faking her death was easy, but letting her go would ruin my image.

For a moment, she froze with wide eyes. I heard her suck in a deep breath in deathly silence. Lily never hoped her plea would have any effect.

"Anything!" she repeated."Just don't kill Harry!"

"Very well," I replied.

She fell to the floor but didn't faint. I helped her up. Harry was watching us from behind her back.

"Very well?" Lily asked in disbelief.

"I will not kill you or your son, but you must vow to serve me faithfully and never betray me. Vow on your life and the life of your son. The vow will kill you before you can betray me effectively: it is triggered by any attempt to act against me or share confidential information."

A bit of wand waving - and glowing patterns appeared in the air around us, enclosing us in an odd shape. It was a rather obscure piece of magic that did not need a binder but required honest intent from both parties and could only be performed once every ten years. Riddle came across it in his search for ways to control the Death Eaters. But once in ten years was not even funny. Only the Lestrange couple was under this vow (though the served voluntarily and were completely loyal anyway). Tom wanted to use it on Lucius Malfoy last year, but Lucius did not trust anyone on principle, so the vow didn't take. Since then, Riddle started calling him "my slippery friend."

"Do you agree to these terms?" this was actually total peonage with no responsibilities on my side. I did not plan on killing them, but I should still add a clause about self-defense from Harry.

"I, Lord Voldemort, vow not to kill Harry Potter if you, Lily Potter, vow on your life and the life of your child to serve me faithfully and never betray me."

"I.. I vow... On Harry's life. And my own. To serve you faithfully," her voice was growing quieter with every word. "I vow... on his life and mine to never betray you."

"Repeat after me."

"I vow to be faithful to Lord Voldemort in both action and lack of thereof, to never, under no circumstances share any confidential information related to Lord Voldemort I receive today or at any later time, in speaking, writing or any other form, including but not limited to: telepathy, legilimency, veritasetum or similar drugs or potions, consciously or unconsciously, with the exception of following Lord Voldemort's direct and explicit orders."

"I vow to not kill your son under the aforementioned conditions but reserve the right to use lethal force if it becomes necessary for self-defense."

Red glow surrounded us. The vow has taken.

"What now?" she asked.

I looked into her eyes. Not even a hint of occlumency. I checked her mind for the location of her wand and other necessities for her and the baby, sending everything into my pocket with space expansion charms.

"We are moving. But first, give me your arm."

The marking went without a hitch. I could viscerally feel a new Death Eater near me. The horror on Lily's face was indescribable. Another swish of the wand- Lily and Harry got transfigured into miniature statues and went into another magically expanded pocket. Why? I still had things to wrap up, and a hysterical woman with a baby would only get in the way.

Visualizing the Mark, I located and called on Pettigrew and the Lestranges. Everyone appeared after a few seconds.

"My Lord..."

"Time is of the essence, Wormtail. Go to London. You will act as bait for Sirius Black. The Lestranges will help you set up the trap. The story is that Black betrayed the Potters and tried to murder you, but you managed to kill him first. You will gain Dumbledore's trust, and Black will become our prisoner."

I looked into their eyes to relay the details via legilimency. Rodolphus was carefully memorizing everything while the other two stared at me- Bellatrix with adoration, Wormtail with fear.

"Go. Time is of the essence," I ordered. Three pops, and I was alone again. I transfigured copies of Lily's and Harry's bodies, cast several spells to muddle the evidence of tonight's events and hid under strong concealment charms.

Sirius Black arrived several minutes later. He wailed over the bodies for a long time, completely crushed by grief. Meanwhile, I was working on subduing his will. Not with the Imperius, this called for more subtle charms first. Finally, I circumvented his family amulet. Despite being a strong wizard, this sad sack never learned any occlumency. Now to carefully amplify his grief and despair without pushing him to suicide...

At that moment, Hagrid arrived and began consoling him. I managed to freeze Hagrid in place non-verbally. He may not be a match for me, but restraining a magically resistant half-giant while working on Black was far from easy. I finally cast the Imperius on Black. He struggled. But his amulets were useless, and I've been in his mind for several minutes.

"Avada Kedavra!" said Black, and the half-giant dropped dead.

Black's desperate attempts to throw off the curse were futile, especially with me pointing a wand at him from a few feet away. I transfigured Hagrid's body and put it with the others. I wonder, could a high quality zombie-Hagrid convince his acromantulas to join me?

Black got on his motorcycle, and I sat next to him. I cast concealment charms on us and Fiendfyre at the house. The cursed fire was incredibly easy to create but much more difficult to control. It spread through the house almost instantly. And they said bricks don't burn! Even if I left some evidence, it would be impossible to find after all my misdirection charms and Fiendfyre. Black cast the Dark Mark over the house, and we left for London.


	2. London or How to Frame Sirius Black

I needed to be extremely productive to frame Black, ensure Pettigrew's fame and take care of the Longbottoms before magic boost from Samhain night was over.

I was flying with imperioed Black to London. Why not apparate? He may have a chance to fight the curse during apparition. I was also using this time to assess my abilities. So far, they were impressive.

Lord Voldemort's magic reserve and recovery speed were ten times higher than the average wizard's. Second only to Dumbledore, at least in Britain. Most of of his skills were oriented towards causing harm. Proficient with an incredible number of high-level spells, especially dark, soul, battle and mind magic. A bit less knowledge in transfiguration, potions, rituals and runes, but still high above the mastery requirements. Good enough at Light magic to cast a Patronus, but that was the ceiling. Zero knowledge of household magic.

What did a magical battle look like? If it were only a matter of waving a wand and saying an incantation, a gun or even a crossbow would be more effective. Wand-waving and shouting spells was the domain of school kids. Perhaps, with the exception of the Unforgivables- enunciating them helped to avoid wasting too much energy.

On Voldemort's level, it was usually enough to point the wand and focus on what you want to happen to the target. Simple spells like the cutting curse could be fired as fast as a machine gun without outpacing the regeneration rate. As for speed and power... A bullet did the same damage regardless of who fired it. Incendio barely lit a piece of paper for an average 11 year old but could be comparable to a highly explosive missile in the hands of someone like Riddle. Within the range of one's abilities, speed and power could be controlled with intense focus.

Of course, a wizard could be killed with a bullet to the head from a sniper rifle. Unless he prepared a kinetic shield before the battle. Then bullets were useless until the energy poured into the shield is depleted. A third year's shield may be able to hold against several shots from a handgun; an average adult wizard's - against a grenade launcher; Riddle could survive a rain of artillery shells.

And so, Lord Voldemort was busy going through the usual routine of casting protection charms on himself. Universal mana shield, shield of dust, shields against the elements, mental shields, kinetic shield, shields against gases, sounds, gamma-radiation, microwave radiation... Wait, what? Radiation? Riddle, you must have been clinically paranoid! Who else could have a shield against radiation? Moody and Albus?

Next came camouflage charms: concealment of magic, aura, sound, heat and smell, attention repelling, standard invisibility, invisibility to radio waves... Riddle hated muggles, but he was not an idiot.

My reserve depleted by a quarter. Four tenth was tied to maintaining all the charms. And one tenth to controlling Black. Tough bastard.

Instinctively, I reached for the vials in my pocket. All decently strong potions were toxic. You must know how much to take and the interactions between them. Riddle knew. And, being paranoid, brewed everything himself.

Potion of regeneration, improved perception, acceleration, sensitivity to magic... After drinking about a third of the safety limit, my attention shifted back to Black. Unfortunately, it looked like I won't be able to keep him under the Imperius forever. Killing him would be a waste - he was very rich. But how to get to his money? No decent ideas yet, so I decided to throw him in Lestranges' dungeons for now. No one would miss him after I stage his death.

A gentle Seco - and a transfigured from air bottle got filled with a liter of Sirius Blacks' blood, followed by one finger and ear. This will be the terrorist's remains after the explosion. Two more spells temporarily replaced Black's missing parts with prosthetics.

Black and I finally reached a cluttered back alley in London, where we were greeted by the Lestranges and Pettigrew. Peter drank a potion to muddle up the results of the truth serum and legilimency enough to make them inadmissible. After all, he would be the only survivor, victim and witness.

Bella handed Sirius a family dagger with the Black crest and two nondescript amulets to block apparition and magic detection to prevent the Aurors from arriving too early. Pettigrew went under the Imperius without struggle. Now I could easily stage a play with two marionettes. Under concealment charms, we all walked into a nearby office building.

We entered a lecture hall. The teacher was speaking about something related to accounting. Fifty or so listeners were drowsily scribbling notes.

Time to begin our show. Bellatrix and Rodolphuls put up anti-apparition and anti-magic detection wards. I created two popping sounds and removed concealment charms from Pettigrew and Black.

"How could you betray James, Sirius?!" screamed Pettigrew.

"Death to the mudbloods!" shouted Black.

Screaming more suchlike drivel, they began throwing nonverbal cutting and blasting curses at each other. The muggles were taking stray hits.

Black activated the amulets with his free hand to make it look like the shields were his doing. The muggles panicked, so I made Black use an area stunner. Half of the muggles froze. Once more, and only the two wizards were left moving.

"Toturnull!" Black's curse hit Pettigrew's wand arm, vanishing its bones. It was quickly followed by a stunner and an Imperio (just an empty word).

Everything had to look convincing. Black blocked the door and proceeded to cut stunned muggles with the ritual knife at five pentagram corners. He frantically tried to throw off the Imperius but on the outside kept ranting about pathetic blood traitor James and how happy he was to no longer have to pretend to be a muggle lover. And about Pettigrew's great honor to become a human bomb that will destroy Dumbledore, earning the Dark Lord's favor.

This ritual really existed: a strong Dark wizard placed another wizard-sacrifice into the center of a blood pentagram, surrounded by live and dead muggles. After the spell, all the muggles would die, and the caster would gain the ability to make the wizard in the center explode at will, regardless of distance. The "bomb" was easily delivered under Imperius. Naturally, Voldemort had already tried it multiple times. It didn't work on Albus or Moody. But this time I had no intention of finishing it.

This ritual had two very useful qualities. It devoured an incredible amount of the caster's energy and emitted so much dark magic that no one in their right mind would conduct it outside a permanently shielded area, risking a meeting with the entire force of the DMLE. As long as Bella held the ward no one on the outside knew.

But the muggle witnesses couldn't see Bella - only two amulets floating in the air. Suddenly, one of the amulets began to change in color and make squeaking sounds. Black turned and attempted to stabilize it- or else the Aurors would interrupt his work.

Black was under so much strain that Pettigrew broke free from Black's Imperius (which was never there) and stunner (which I dispelled). With Black distracted, Pettigrew ripped out a steel construction rod from a muggle nailed to the floor and heroically stabbed Black through the throat. Black collapsed.

Of course, the wound was not fatal. I made sure Black did not lose too much blood. Peter dropped the rod and snatched Black's wand. As Black tried to cast something wandlessly (a ball of light in his hand from me), Pettigrew put everything he had into one final blasting curse. I sped up my perception, shielding myself, Pettigrew, and several muggles. The Lestranges put up their own.

"Re.." Peter began.

Black was instantly swapped with a replica made with his blood. Nothing but a useless statue, but it will pass the identity test. The real Black, stunned and transfigured, went into my pocket.

"...ducto!"-finished Peter.

The explosion was spectacular. Fake Black got reduced to ground meat. His blood covered the walls, his finger flew somewhere across the room. Half of the muggles were also minced to pieces. The few survivors had heavy injuries. The blast hole went down through three floors. The brave Peter Pettigrew went into shock from a concussion and a broken leg, so I had to take him under complete control.

The Lestranges took down their shields and left unharmed. Peter continued playing the hero: he summoned the Aurors and the Order, then healed one of the muggles before throwing up on the brink of magical exhaustion. Realizing he could not provide any more help, he apparated. Not to St. Mungo's but to an on-duty member of the Order. He'll soon be peddling his story to the old man, who will notice signs of Dark curses from "Black"... Healing Peter would take at least 2 hours alone, unless Abus was feeling generous with Phoenix tears... But even then, he will have to spend time talking to Peter, checking his memories and consoling him.

I apparated away. There would be no evidence- dark magic from the amulets overwhelmed all other magical traces. After several apparitions, I arrived at the Lestrange manor.

It has always reminded me of The Winter Palace in St. Petersburg. I was greeted by the entire family: Edward, the Lestrange patriarch, Rodolphus' and Rabastan's father, Tom's classmate and one of the first death eaters; Rodolphus and Rabastan - brothers, death eaters. And my favorite - Bellatrix Lestrange née Black, Rodolphus' wife and the most devoted death eater. I could relax around them. Back in his youth, Tom helped them break a family curse and later saved Rabastan's life. They were one of the rare few in my organization who could be trusted.

"My Lord, will you be staying?" - asked Bellatrix.

Lord Voldemort was obsessed with power and immortality. But not money. He wore transfigured clothes and lived at his servants' manors. Mostly the Lestranges'.

"Not now," I replied. "Here is Sirius Black. Put him into your most secure cell and grow him a new ear and finger. Keep in mind that he is an animagus. He must not have an opportunity to commit suicide."

"Little Siri is an animagus? We'll find him a cozy cage!" Bellatrix didn't even acknowledge their blood relation. We walked down to the dungeons, and very soon a large black dog was locked in his new cell, wearing a magic-blocking collar, asleep under the Draught of the Living Death.

"Isn't the security a bit too much?" asked the edest Lestrange. He was Tom's friend and remained one of the few people who could speak to him like this.

"You are right, my friend. Add wards against house elves and something of your own. Maybe golem guards for constant surveillance. Don't go inside. I will not risk the Black fortune and Wormtail's cover in Dumbledore's ranks. Maximum security."

"Any more orders?" asked Rodolphus.

"Yes. I need two houses, permanently. Each warded and under Fidelius. And two house elves. Also, prepare a ritual room to raise three liches and one white zombie."

Nobody around here batted an eye at playing with the dead. The dungeons were often used for creating zombies and inferi from muggles and unlucky enemies. Once in a while we even made magic-using corpses - liches. It was houses and house elves that went against Voldemort's MO.

"Have you decided to settle down, my Lord?" Edward asked.

"Yes," I refused to elaborate.

"Do you wish to gather all your servants, my Lord?" chimed in Bellatrix. "Everyone needs to know the Potters have been defeated by your hand!"

"Later, Bella. I will go to the Longbottoms before Samhain is over."

"Allow me to accompany you, Master!" she pleaded.

"I will take care of it myself. If you want to be useful, go do what I just ordered."

I walked out of the manor to the edge of the wards and apparated to the Longbottoms. Their secret keeper wasn't a traitor like Wormtail, but he still spilled everything under torture; by that time, his body was not even good enough for an inferus.


	3. The Last Fight of the Longbottoms

I reappeared near the Longbottoms' hiding place, a cottage surrounded by picturesque greenery. Their Fidelius had collapsed. It should take me about ten minutes to take down the rest of the outside defenses without drawing attention. An alarm would still sound once I enter, but it could be blocked from alerting anyone else.

I began casting spells: disable the alarm connected directly to the Order of the Phoenix; disable the alarm connected to their family manor (probably to Augusta Longbottom); block the soporific charms; block the activation of outer perimeter golems; block the automatic spell system that shoots waves of Stupefy and Perfecticus at intruders. Luckily for me this was not a family manor- even a Dark Lord would not have enough energy to shut down all the defense systems in one of those without help.

Their plants were a little concerning: Venomous Tentacula, Sopophorous Beans, and especially that strange-looking vine surrounding the entire house. They all clearly were a part of the defense system, but Tom had no knowledge of how to quietly circumvent guardian plants. Maybe call the Lestranges? Or even better, a dozen of Death Eaters? Sit back and watch my servants win from a safe distance. A good idea, if it weren't for several "buts."

First, I had plans for Neville. The Longbottoms were one of the Order's largest sponsors. After Frank, Alice and the granny die, Neville will inherit everything, even if the accounts stay frozen until he becomes a legal adult. If Malfoy's legal team helped Bella get custody, I would deprive the old man of the money he would otherwise receive from Neville and get it for myself. Counting on a group of Death Eaters to be careful enough not to kill a child while fighting his parents was... not wise. And even if the boy survived, it would birth rumors that the the Dark Lord spares enemy children. Many of my servants wouldn't understand.

Second, I needed to test my fighting abilities. Even though Alice and Frank were both capable Aurors and we would fight on their territory, Riddle's memory suggested they were no match for him. Therefore, I was going to do this alone.

I prepared wards against apparition and communication, tying them to myself. Then decided to add redundancy. The air simmered with anti-apparation and anti-communication runes. After thinking some more, I drew the same runes on rocks and placed them all around the cottage. I was finally confident they would not be able to escape or call for help.

After a while, I received a signal from Wormtail: he met up with Dumbledore. How did he relay it? Very easily: before framing Black, he drank a potion. A mostly useless potion with one interesting side effect. The speed at which it is metabolized was proportional to the power of wizards around you (with the exception of the one who brewed it, in this case Lord Voldemort). The Dark Mark may not allow me to eavesdrop on my servants, but I could sense their basic health level. And Pettigrew's suddenly dropped low enough to indicate a stroke, which he should have as soon as the potion stopped working. No reason to be concerned - any decent mediwizard could take care of it, and he had Dumbledore. This will keep Albus busy far away from the Longbottom residence and delay his arrival if everything went south. I could, of course, hit them with something quick and powerful like Fiendfyre. But then Neville would die, and I would lose two adult wizarding bodies.

It was time to attack. I still haven't thought of what to do with the accursed plants. Perhaps a strong Firestorm? It should burn through the entire grounds, preventing the Longbottoms from escaping through a window. The cottage looked sturdy, its walls charmed to withstand fire. And I would cancel it once we engaged.

I really didn't like the look of their doors and windows- stronger than the walls and covered with additional alarms. They were blocking me from sensing the Longbottoms, so I did not see the best place to enter.

But I had to act. I checked my concealment charms and entered my first battle. With a flick of the wand the runes lit up, cutting off apparation, floo, two-way mirrors and so on. Another wave- and several hectares of land caught on fire. The walls held. My shields protected me from fire as I levitated myself towards the house.

An overpowered shield penetrator punched a carriage-size hole in the wards. A Bombarda brought down most of the front wall. The fire bursting in with me hit an invisible wall of fireproof charms. As soon as I crossed the threshold, something latched on and tried to tamper with my magic's regeneration. Some of my simple charms like Chameleon and the sound shield nearly got dispelled. This is what I get for fighting in enemy territory!

The house interior looked suspiciously like a greenhouse. Not surprisingly, all of the plants were hostile. I burned them. The ones that refused to burn normally got a taste of concentrated blue fire. Some vine tried to grapple me. Thorns flew at me from all directions, followed by pollen. Pollen that triggered the acid shield. They all got disintegrated by my shield of dust. I kept getting attacked by furniture, statues and a stuffed owl.

A lesser wizard may have been squished like a bug, but I only felt annoyed at having to waste magic. I was also concerned with their ability to detect me. How could magical plants ignore concealment charms? Some charms even dissipated as the plants touched my shields.

The revealing charm showed three live humans. I flew towards the signal, blasting the walls in front of me. Unable to floo, apparate, call for help (wards) or escape through the windows (fire), the Longbottoms made the only remaining right choice: hide the child and run towards me. I greeted them with killing curses. They dodged and answered with a barrage of stunning, disarming and revealing spells. That dispelled most of my outer camouflage charms, making me appear as a hazy sphere about five meters in diameter.

I blocked Frank's acid burst, reflected Alice's sonic wave and cast multiple killing curses back at them. Too many to dodge, especially in a confined space. (How was the house still standing? More than half of the walls were gone. Must be magically reinforced.)

Tom's favorite curse was extremely useful. It ignored all shields, killed the victim instantly and painlessly by severing the soul from the body and left the body in pristine condition for necromancy. Unfortunately, it was primarily tailored to humanoid energy channels and would not kill something very different and powerful, like a dragon. And it could still be dodged or blocked by placing a human or a sturdy object in its way...

Which is why I cast two more nonverbal spells immediately ahead of the Avada ray: cancellation of transfiguration and a blast just strong enough to get rid of any objects shielding the Longbottoms without penetrating their shields. Debris gathered in front of them got blasted away, transfigured furniture turned back into air.

The fight should be over. But no. House elves! Five of those little bastards suddenly appeared in front of their masters and took all the Avadas. I cursed inwardly. My wards stopped them from leaving the grounds, but they could still apparate as they pleased inside the perimeter. Five more appeared behind me and tried to attack. The first one burned, the second dropped with organ failure, the third's head exploded, the fourth got gutted, the fifth got turned inside out.

Getting angry, I threw a wave of raw magic at the Longbottoms. The last of my camouflage charms disappeared. The Longbottoms showed amazing team work. Frank shielded them both from my onslaught of magic- it looked like he could hold on for two more seconds. Meanwhile, Alice attacked me with some deadly family special. My shield held, but apparently it was only a diversion tactic.

I thought I burned all the plants. And I did. Above ground. While I was busy fighting humans, roots crept up under me and attacked. Good thing Riddle was so paranoid- his first shield was a perfect sphere that reached underground, and a duplicate shield covered the entire body like a second skin. Root that touched the sphere immediately turned to dust. But the rest tried to drown me in acid, swarm me with sleeping powder, strangle me, absorb my energy... And my magic reserve kept lowering.

I canceled my attack on Frank and the Fire Storm outside. The roots changed their strategy and pushed me out of the house. It felt like I was in a spherical aquarium made of plants. Since they weren't able to overcome my defenses, they must have decided to simply move me away from their masters. Turning to death magic, I released a wave of energy and willed for the plants to die. This ate a fifth of my reserve, but at least I felt all of the plants and roots turn into dust this time.

I was standing before the ruined house. The Longbottoms were casting explosive charms. Why did everything have to be so difficult? Why couldn't they forget their wands, attack me with their bare hands, live in a non-magical house without golems, attack plants, house elves... Why couldn't they be more like James Potter?

"I am Lord Voldemort! I am satisfied with the test of your abilities! Join me!" I announced. Of course they won't, but it might stun them for a moment.

Their answer came in a form of two killing curses. They must have not recognized me without the reptilian face, then. But once they knew I was Voldemort, they decided to kill me by any means- life in Azkaban or not. Although... Maybe they thought Moody would get them off the hook.

I dodged easily. Under the acceleration charm and the acceleration potion, I moved only a bit slower than their Avadas. I answered with stunners, but they were absorbed by their shields.

The Longbottoms cast more killing curses. Except this time one of them went first, and the other aimed at the direction I dodged. I really didn't like this hopscotch with death. I filled the space between us with thransfigured pieces of wood and thickened air. Condense the air, increase the volume - and a water whip went flying towards Frank, twisting around obstacles. He put up a shiled. I wrapped water around it in an attempt to crush it- their brazenness had irked me to the point of not caring about the condition of their corpses.

While Frank was fighting the pressure, I threw a Sphere of Decay at Alice- nothing complicated, but it should flatten her with its sheer amount of energy. I didnt't see or feel a shield against it on her. But once again my plans went south. Before the sphere could reach Alice, it got absorbed by a large dark surface. The Dark Plane is definitely the most effective way to defend against decay curses but also very illegal...

Alice threw seeds at her husband. (Was she keeping them in her night gown?) I've done some gardening in my previous life and have seen seeds swell with water. But for five seeds to absorb several tons of water with no increase in size? I couldn't help but stare in astonishment, even pausing my battery of stunners.

Taking advantage of my momentarily stumble, the Longbottoms launched another coordinated attack: Frank with fire, Alice with ice. Moody trained them well. The idea was simple: I had enough spare energy to use a strong universal shield instead of several specialized ones. Reflecting two opposite elements simultaneously would put it under enormous strain and allow their third hit through. But enhanced speed gave me time to put up separate fire and ice shields, absorbing the elemental part of their attack. The universal shield took care of spells from their amulets (lightning from Alice's and poisonous thorns from Frank's). Their non-verbal wandless stunners caught me completely by surprise, but the shield held them off.

What could I say? Above and beyond any expectations. I was down to half of my reserve, having spent more than both of theirs put together. Luck was clearly not on my side- I would not even be surprised if Albus suddenly decided to drop by. I should have stayed at the Lestranges' and invited Bella to my bed. Now I had to win this fight to get back there.

"I will spare your lives if you join me," I offered again. "No need to spill pure blood."

Instead of an answer I got an explosion. Interesting. Apparently they pushed a lot of oxygen towards me and ignited it. The debris I was using to stop Avadas all burned away.

"I don't hear your answer," I said, casting a mix of stunners and killing curses.

They cast Avadas back at me. It was well past the time to finish this. But how? Blow everything up? Fiendfyre? Or keep going until they got exhausted? I sent conjured snakes at them with orders to kill. The snakes got hit with Imperiuses and ordered to kill me instead. I vanished them and began again:

"You don't even need a reason to join me. We are already on the same side!"

I sent large pieces of wall flying at them. While they were busy defending from the remains of their house, I inconspicuously arranged dust into a giant rune "stop" under Alice. Once the rune was imbued with magic, it trapped Alice in place. I cast the killing curse at her, simultaneously sending countless rocks and transfigured birds at Frank to stop him from interfering. At last, my Avada striked true- Alice was dead. Minus one! I was happy!

"NO!" screamed Frank, throwing Avadas and Cruicios at me.

Rage made him fierce but predictable. I assaulted his mind. He was protected by an amulet and occlumency, so I couldn't subdue his will (well, technically I could- just immobilize him, take off the amulet and give me twenty minutes).

Still, my attempt to control him and conjure hallucinations was nothing but a distraction. Fighting a battle in his head, he did not notice me creating an illusion- not legilimency but an actual illusion he could see with his eyes. He thought I attacked him with Night's Shadow - a nice, powerful, self-guiding dark curse. As an experienced Auror, Frank made the best choice and countered it with Carpus Bonom. But Night's Shadow was merely an illusion covering up the good old killing curse which doesn't care about shields. And Frank joined his wife.

"Finally!" I exclaimed, transfiguring their bodies into miniature statues and putting them in my pocket. They will make exceptional liches.

I got little carried away here, hopefully Neville was still alive. Detection charms showed nothing. Strange. A second of flight and I was in the nursery. There was an odd haze covering the baby's bed.

As I was casting the human revealing charm, something launched at me from behind and got disintegrated by my shield. Must have been the last house elf. After its death, I could clearly sense Neville. His parents must have left him in the elf's care before coming out to fight. The elf saved the boy from explosions and carbon monoxide and then tried to save him from me. I transfigured stunned Neville into a plush toy and took him with me.

Fly out of the ruins. Fiendfyre. Magic interference charms. Astral Cacophony. The Dark Mark. Eat that! Now determining what exactly transpired here was next to impossible. Except the fact that everyone was dead, Neville included.

After a series of apparitions to prevent tracking, I finally got back to the Lestranges' manor. I earned a rest. Magic reserve got depleted to about a quarter. Good thing I didn't try to storm the ministry, or they would have buried me there.


	4. Peace Is but a Dream

When I returned, all the Lestranges were once again greeting me at the gates.

"How did it go, my Lord?" Bella eagerly asked.

I nearly bit the dust. Started a fight on enemy territory with depleted magic. Made mistakes fighting plants. Forgot about the house elves - without them, the Longbottoms would have died from the first killing curses. Threw spells around like I had unlimited energy. Did not expect so much dark magic from Aurors.

"The Longbottoms fell before my might. Our cause is one step closer to victory."

"Wonderful," said Edward, "everything is ready for the lich-raising ritual. Would you like to begin now?"

I reached into my pocket for the wizards' bodies but pulled out the first thing that was on top: a teddy bear. Everyone's eyes widened. I reversed the transfiguration and gave the unconscious boy to Bella.

"This is Neville Longbottom, a pureblood. After his parents deaths and the impending death of his grandmother, he will be the sole Longbottom heir. Take him and raise him into a worthy Death Eater."

"Tilly! Milly!" called the eldest Lestrange. "Help Bella with the baby. Go build a nursery. We can raise liches without her."

Bella with the child and the house elves went inside. We walked down to the basement.

"A smart move, my Lord. But it would be best kept under wraps. Maybe tell Rosier and Nott - they always disapproved of pureblood deaths and will be happy the ancient family yet survives. And Malfoy should prepare his lawyers. At the very least, they will be able to freeze the Longbottoms' accounts once Neville is the only one left."

I nodded. More than anything, I wanted to rest. But Samhain wasn't over yet, and I needed take advantage of enhanced necromantic powers.

After I returned the bodies of James, Frank, Alice and Hagrid to their original form, the Lestranges placed them on top of ritual drawings. The wizards went into separate five-point circles, Hagrid into the three-point one.

"Three large circles for magical corpses and one medium for a white zombie are ready, my Lord." said Edward. "What ritual will we be using?"

Necromancy was akin to golem-building, except with distinct materials. The most primitive material was muggles. Their corpses could be raised and controlled as zombies with a spell or a simple ritual. Zombies were no stronger than live muggles, only much stupider. Too stupid to use guns, unfortunately. The most useful thing they could be ordered was march in a given direction and attack everything in sight. Or controlled individually with mind magic. Basically, zombies were nothing more than animated corpses. Their disregard for pain and exhaustion was handy, but even large numbers of them could be stopped with standard charms against the undead, banishment, patronus, or even a muggle with a rifle.

A magical human's body offered more options. In the hands of a half-wit, it might rise as a regular muggle zombie. A correctly performed ritual could produce inferi - corpses that retained their passive magic. It granted them average magic resistance, regeneration of everything except brain and spine, and most importantly, improved physical abilities (Though still a far cry from a transformed werewolf.) An inferus had no free will or mind of its own, it was completely obedient to the person who raised it. Without self-preservation instinct, they were best used as guards (not around live people!) or kamikaze soldiers.

But a wizard's or witch's body could also be used to create a magic-wielding corpse. Colloquially, a lich. The first option was a ritual performed by several wizards on a freshly dead, preferably freshly killed body. The resulting undead could perform all magic it could use during life with the exception of Light, Life, elemental fire and mind magic. It remained dumb at as a rock but could follow simple orders: search for enemies, attack, stop. It was incapable of learning anything new.

The other option was lich with a consciousness. It required tying a freshly separated soul back to its body. Advantages: the resulting undead could learn new things, make decisions and use mind magic. Disadvantages: its will was completely free unless the raiser actively controlled it, expending magic. It would want to break free and kill its master. Not surprisingly, making intelligent corpses was very unpopular.

There were even more limitations. Unlike live wizards, liches didn't regenerate their magic. They worked with whatever you had poured into them; if they ran out- you recharged them again. Or connected them to a magical source and kept them nearby. Also, the total magical energy of all your undead combined couldn't be greater than your own. And it obviously was illegal dark magic.

Tom regularly made undead for suicide attacks or covering the Death Eaters' retreat. That's why he was so fond of the killing curse- dead enemy and perfect material for necromancy rolled into one.

"We will be raising then with the non-intelligent version. Slowly but properly. Check their blood for potions, especially the Longbottoms. And be careful with Hagrid- he is a half-giant with magic resistance."

My assistants began casting diagnostic charms. Rubbing the bodies with potions. Cutting runes into them. It looked rather disgusting. But I was the Dark Lord, not the Lord of Pretty Butterflies, right?

"Potter is clean and can be raised right away. The Longbottoms have acceleration, magic replenishing and dark magic resistance potions in addition to the standard auror set. Also potions preventing their body parts from being used in polyjuice and targeted curses. Preparation will take a while, and they will be weaker than in life. Hagrid will also take time."

The Lestranges put a muggle in each corner of the four shapes. They always kept a decent supply of muggles for rituals. While they were killing the muggles, I poured the remains of my magic into spells. I wouldn't have been surprised if I didn't have enough to conduct the ritual, but the Lestranges did most of the work, charging the circles. Why was I even here? First of all, I needed to test my necromancy. Second, the undead submitted only to the one who raised them. They would be my liches, despite our team work.

James Potter got up without delay, looking very fresh for a corpse. I haven't decided what to do with him yet, so I handed him his wand and ordered to guard Black's cell.

The Longbottoms... Unmistakably dead bodies covered in runes. In magical vision- dead bodies with strange, continuously shifting energy fields.

"The Longbottoms will be ready in no sooner than a week, my Lord," Edward informed me. "Forgive my asking, but for what exactly do you need Hagrid?"

Hagrid looked almost alive but had no magic or magic resistance. Zero value in battle.

"He must be indistinguishable from the live version. Above all for acromantula senses. Come up with something. Marinate him in a barrel of potions or whatnot."

To be honest, I had no idea how acromantulas saw the world. Could they sense the undead? Let the Lestranges deal with that headache. Once they are done, I'll try to negotiate with the overgrown spiders.

"We will think of something," they promised.

I felt so close to magical exhaustion that anything harder than Expelliarmus would have probably knocked me out. No more battles or rituals, at least for the next day or two.

But my work did not end with magic. Leaving the Lestrange brothers to brainstorm the zombie problem, Edward and I went to the living room.

"So, what about the houses?" I reminded him.

"Our family has dozens. Take whatever you want."

"I only need two. And two house elves. And books on house elves" I wanted to fill the gaps in my knowledge.

"May I assume you will need to tie the house elves to yourself rather than a source?"

House elf. Something like an intelligent chimera that could do magic but not accumulate it. "Smart house" personified: could use magic from either the source of the owner. Once the elves are mine, they will no longer be able to use the Lestranges' source. And spending my own energy on house elves, with my lifestyle... I might die with a clean house.

Each of the major magic sources in Britain (the Ministry, Hogwarts, Stonehenge) replenished the magic of thousands of wizards and house elves who have been connected to them. The sources' power was also used to maintains wards and space expansion charms.

Average sources could support a couple dozen wizards. Most "main" manors of pureblood families, including the Lestranges', sat atop this kind of source. The larger the source, the longer it lasted. Old ones dried up, new ones appeared all around the planet. But even average sources lasted for centuries.

And small ones... They lasted decades and could only support one or two average magicals. This was exactly what I needed. They may be rare, but the Lestranges were happy to share. One for Lily and Harry, one for my house elf.

"I can offer you these two houses. Each has a source for one average wizard. Would that be enough?"

"Yes. Prepare the papers."

"The houses only have basic wards. What defenses do you plan to add?"

"The Fidelius. Bella and Rabastan will be the keepers."

The Fidelius was a very atypical charm with a number of conditions. A person could only be the secret keeper for one Fidelius at a time. The secret keeper could not live under a Fidelius himself, not even another one. As far as I knew, Dumbledore was the keeper for his Order's headquarters. The Potters then had to place their trust in Pettigrew.

I, on the other hand, had no shortage of candidates among the Lestranges, who lived in a manor defended by their source-powered wards.

I called on Bella and Rabastan through their marks. It wasn't a phone, but it did relay the place and urgency.

We conducted the ritual. Or rather, Edward did- I still haven't recovered, but they did not need to know that. I became the owner of two house elves - Tony and Gaby, and connected them to my new houses.

I informed everyone that I will be staying in the house with Bella as the keeper, and they should only enter in case of emergency. The other house, kept by Rabastan, would be my lab for particularly dangerous experiments, where no one may enter under any circumstances. After dismissing everyone but Rabastan, I asked him:

"You are my faithful servant, are you not?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"I need you to do something that will appear pointless but in fact is very important. You will do everything with utmost care and keep it a secret. Even from your family. If you tell anyone, it will tamper with the magic I am using and ruin my plans."

"I am awaiting your orders, my Lord.

"Do you have any experience with scrying for people with given parameters? And how is your legilimency?"

"Yes, my Lord. I am good at both but not a master."

"Wonderful," -I flicked my wand. My magic was still so depleted that I was using a wand and a verbal spell to conjure a simple illusion! Before us appeared a full-scale hologram resembling Lily in height, age and body type but with different hair and face.

The plan was simple: Lily Potter was officially dead. She would live under polyjuice. A similar body will let her move naturally without an adaptation period, lowering the chance of being found out.

"Go wherever you want and find a muggle woman with similar appearance. Caucasian. Make sure she is neither rich nor famous; not an actress, an elected official or any kind of public figure at all. Make sure she is not a witch or a squib, does not know and is not related to any wizards. Aside from legillimency, do not do anything to her or to anyone around her. I will need her hair for polyjuice. Not once, but year after year. Bring me the hair and a batch of polyjuice."

"I understand, my Lord," Rabastan began a spell that analyzed the hologram and must be followed by another that will scan the area looking for matches. "If I may ask, why go through all this trouble? Why not simply stun her and keep her in the dungeons? Or send a house elf?"

Usually he would be right. But keeping a muggle in the basement would be bad for Lily's morale. Keeping the muggle anywhere else invited the risk of someone seeing her and figuring out the farce. And I didn't trust house elves not to babble something incriminating at the worst moment. I could go myself, but after everything that happened I just wanted to finish this business with Lily and rest. The Lestranges were my most faithful. Edward knew Riddle too well and could realize this was very unlike me. Bella would kill her husband if she caught him spying on muggles. If I sent Bella by herself, she might kill the woman. Rabastan was perfect for this- a bachelor pureblood was entitled to his hobbies, however odd. Maybe he was just searching for a highly specific ritual sacrifice?

"I value your input, but in this case everything must be done exactly as I said. Once you are done, call on me and wait at the manor."

Rabastan nodded and disapparated. Who was he to say what might be required for an experimental potion or ritual? After having to gather insect wings under the light of a full moon for a potion, most wizards were hard to surprise.

"Gaby!" I called the elf.

"What does new Master wish from Gaby?"

"Tidy up the house. Find me books on herbology and housekeeping charms. And on house elves. You have an important mission: tell me absolutely everything about house elf magic. And try teaching me. But not right now, I will finish my other work and rest first."

"Will do, Master!"

I apparated to my other house. This is where I will keep Lily.

"Tony!"

"What can Tony do for new Master?"

"A witch with a baby will be living here. Care for them. But keep in mind: they are special, well-guarded guests. They are forbidden to leave the house without my direct order. Obey their orders within reasonable limits. If there are any prisoners or dark books or artifacts here, move them all to my other house."

"Yes, Master."

Why was I going through so much trouble for Lily? The prophecy. I was hesitant to act without knowing its entirety. Staying transfigured for too long was harmful. They must stay alive until I know what it says. And possibly get their money.

I couldn't hide them in any of my followers' dungeons- the last thing I needed was rumors that I spare mudbloods... Also, some moron could find them there and decide to "have fun," with lethal consequences.

Besides, Severus asked me to let her live. I had to find out how much she was worth to him - perhaps I could blackmail him. After all, I didn't promise anything other than spare her. And if I did give her to Severus, he would have nowhere to hide her. I, on the other hand, already had the perfect set up, courtesy of the Lestranges...

The house turned out to be an ordinary two-story cottage. No nursery. I entered one of the rooms and started conjuring furniture, toys, a mirror with communication charms... Verbally and with the wand. As far as I understood, magic could be done with pure will. A wand acted like an amplifier and focus, reducing energy cost. I was barely spending any. Maybe I should have been an interior designer instead of a Dark Lord.

Two minutes later the nursery was complete. I put delayed sleeping spells on still transfigured Harry and Lily - let the baby sleep, and Lily would join him if she decided to be difficult.

Lily frantically scurried to check on Harry the second she regained consciousness.

"He is merely asleep. I wish to speak with you about your service to me," -I said, keeping up the grandiose style. Legillimency showed Lily thought I kept them transfigured to prevent her from figuring out our location. "You are forbidden from leaving this house without my direct order. No one will find you here: the house is under Fidelius. The secret keeper is Rabastan Lestrange, and he thinks you are dead. So does everyone else."

"I am of no use to you... Maybe you could let me go?" she looked up with hope.

"The Death Eaters would not understand."

"Can't you order them?"

"They are not house elves. Some, like the Lestranges, serve me and would obey any orders. Others, like the Malfoys, follow me as long as it benefits them. And some, like Greyback, are with me to kill and plunder without reprise. Besides, did you really expect altruism from a Dark Lord?"

"I don't want to kill anyone... I have nothing to lose and am ready to die," was this her attempt to defy my orders? I already raised my wand for a Crucio but reconsidered.

" I don't give a damn about formalities, but my status requires it. You will call me "my Lord" or get a taste of the Cruciatus. Mine or Bella's. Furthermore, what do you mean, "nothing to lose"? I know you have a muggle sister with a family. And if you listened to my vow, I only promised not to kill Harry. I can torture him as much as I want right now or invite Greyback while you watch under Perfecticus."

Apparently Lily finally understood with whom she was dealing and what kind of vow she gave. A somewhat one-sided one. I supposed she was ready to die fighting. But not eaten alive together with Harry.

"But if you are useful, I will, out of the kindness of my heart, follow the spirit rather than the letter of the vow. Do you understand?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"Wonderful. What can you tell me about the Order?"

"Nothing, my Lord," said Lily anxiously.

Legilimency confirmed it was true: no member names, no meetings, nothing - Dumbledore knew his confidentiality charms. We used similar ones. Otherwise, how can there be secret organizations? Riddle had taken many prisoners with nothing to show for it, so I didn't hope for success.

"How are you in a fight?" I asked, still rummaging through her mind.

"I've been in combat twice. My Lord."

I saw it in her memories. She never used anything better than Protego and Stupefy. Nothing compared to her dead Auror husband.

"Do you have money?"

"No, my Lord."

Again, the truth. A housewife. The Order did not pay. James was wealthy, but the money now belonged to his heir. It would be impossible to reach without revealing that Harry was alive.

Lily's mind filled with terror. She was imagining me realizing her uselessness, killing her and torturing Harry.

"Then I see only one way you can serve me."

She really began to panic. What else could a woman think when she got kidnapped by a maniac who killed her husband and was demanding money? But I had no interest in rape. For many reasons. First of all, I was too busy trying to survive to think of sex. Second, what if it drove her to suicide and "mercy-killing" Harry? Or blowing up the house. Third, I still planned on using her as bait for Snape. Third, sex itself. Riddle had some. A long time ago. But the more horcruxes he made, the less human instincts remained. He had the ability but not desire. A strong argument against horcruxes.

And most importantly, how to have sex with shields? She was unable to come within a yard of me. I could remove everything except the layer covering my skin. But I could not feel anything touching the shield! (Except my wand, it acted as a part of me.) And I was not going to leave myself defenseless while dragging an unwilling witch to bed. She could kill me with accidental magic! So, this was a bad idea any way you looked at it.

"No, I have no interest in what you are thinking about. You will be brewing potions," I said the first thing that came to mind. Was she even good at potions? Searching through memories... School grades...

I conjured a list for her. Nothing difficult: third to fifth year material. Half a day's work.

"I need these in two days. Meanwhile, make yourself at home. I will be checking on you from time to time."

"I don't have any money, ingredients or a cauldron..."

"Tony!" I called. "Obey this witch's orders, within reason. She needs potion supplies. I am going to take care of other business. Both of you, do your jobs."

I pretended to apparate: disillusioned myself with a pop. The woman broke down crying. I briefly thought about casting a sleeping or calming spell on her, but she was a big girl, and I was busy.

Under the silencing charm, I apparated away. Home sweet home. Cast protection spells, carve protection runes into the bed frame. Cut my hand and draw runes on the headboard. Heal the wound. This would work similarly to a pensieve and let me watch any of Riddle's memories in my sleep. Most people would get no rest. But Riddle was a master of the mind arts, so I was sure I would wake up refreshed. I went to bed an started reviewing Riddle's life just as the sun was coming up.


	5. You-Know-Who's New Student

Lucid dreaming was an interesting experience. The Dark Lord's life story... Starring Voldemort himself. Here I kill enemies. Give speeches about killing enemies during meetings. Raise inferi after battle. When magic reserves are depleted, read books on Dark magic in the Lestrages' library and brew potions in the basement. Carve runic analogs of spells into objects (Riddle had one-way shields: while casting normally, throw a rock with runes at the enemy. I could have really used some in my fight with the Longbottoms!) Then torture and ritual sacrificing of prisoners. At this pace, Riddle would've lost his mind even without horcruxes.

By the way, what about the horcruxes? Here I'm reading books about them: how to hide and protect them. No, I needed to know what they are and how to make them first.

So, _The Secrets of the Darkest Art_ , Paths to Immortality:

" _In one way or another, some living beings have been able to achieve immortality. Some use regular mass sacrifices to absorb life force; some modify their bodies to ageless perfection or continuously repair them; some steal and swap bodies; some replace their flesh with metal or enchanted stone; some choose existing as a lich and raise themselves; some forego the physical body altogether and remain as spirits, unable to interact with the world. All these cases are protected from natural death but still die with destruction of the body and exorcism of the spirit._

 _An especially powerful and cunning wizard may place his soul into an object with the help of ritual sacrifice. The spirit remains bound to this world even after the body is destroyed and can even be reborn, with assistance in recreating the body. However, destroying the soul vessel leads to death._

 _The most perilous method is ritually splitting one's soul to create a horcrux. Part of the soul remains in the body, the other is placed in an object. When the object is destroyed, the soul fragment contained within also perishes. When the body is destroyed, the remaining soul stays bound to earth and can be reborn in a new body._ "

Yeah, there were a lot of methods of becoming immortal... But they all had a catch. Kill people on an industrial scale, become a golem or a walking corpse, risk losing your soul. I really didn't want to repeat Koschei the Deathless' fate.

Apparently, the only reasonable option was the Philosopher's Stone. But my lifestyle removed the need to worry about dying from old age, and the stone could not protect me from the killing curse. What is even made of? Dragon blood? Concentrated life force of muggles who died from the bubonic plague? I hadn't the foggiest. Flamel had one, but I did not know his location or abilities. And I couldn't ask Dumbledore.

Immortality was still important, though. I decided to start with checking my previous horcruxes. According to the legend, the diadem enlightened the mind, the cup created healing potions, the locket detected poisons... What did the ring do? Add it to the pile of things to figure out.

Meanwhile, let's watch something more immediately relevant. Why was Tom in a half-snake, half-human body? I should go find Nagini, she was supposed to be slithering around the Lestranges' gardens.

So, Tom's appearance began to change with the horcrux hobby. Some features got inherited from Nagini during rituals. After Tom completely stopped caring about looks, he decided to radically modify his body. Medical textbooks. Dark magic. Dissection of muggles, wizards, vampires and werewolves. Replacing muscles and bones within stronger versions, replacing red blood cells with cells smaller in size but larger in surface area. Some thing or another instead of hemoglobin. Changes to organs, senses and so on. Everything was grown from his own blood and implanted without sedation. Rituals, potions... And now Lord Voldemort has a stronger, faster body! Requires only four hours of sleep per week! Impervious to lesser poisons... So drinking alcohol was pointless as well?

My arrival somehow changed that into Riddle's old body with some of my features. Now I looked almost exactly like his father, the muggle pretty-boy.

I recalled my fight with the Longbottoms. This body moved much slower than the reptilian one. What to do? Survival dictated bringing back the old reptiloid. Aesthetic concerns and seducing Bellatrix - staying in this one. The Longbottoms did not recognize me. So it made the most sense to live in this body and wage war in the other. Transform before meeting the Death Eaters or fighting. But how? I was not a metamorphmagus. I should catch a live one and experiment. Until then, use illusion charms. Or even better, illusion on top of make up! A strong wizard (or an average one with the help of recognition spells) would notice my camouflage, but no one would have time to dispel it during a fight. And the Death Eaters won't dare. The Lord put an illusion over his face, so what? He must have his reasons.

I should also look into finding the Slytherin magical source and connecting myself. My energy would replenish faster, and I could afford a permanent defense system.

So, how to secure a source? Before anything, it must be located. A wild source was only visible in magical vision from a short distance, appearing as a fountain of energy. Second, it must be "subdued." The simplest analogy- create a "pool" of energy to draw upon. If the source's energy torrent was less than your regeneration rate, a series of simple charms was enough. If it was somewhat larger - turn to rituals.

Tom did not know what to do with very large sources. Logically, they should use larger ritual circles and a greater number of ritual participants. A source secured by Slytherin should be compatible with his descendants and hard to connect to anyone else.

Tom wanted the Slytherin source, but no one knew its location. Besides, it required linking up his energy field in a ritual, and horcruxes did such a number on him that a standard ritual was very unlikely to work. Customizing the ritual could take years, if it worked at all. It also would reveal his different energy and its causes to the other participants. All in all, this was not a game worth playing.

But if I still had a whole soul, the latter problem no longer applied. And the first one, finding a source that could be anywhere in England... Delegate it to the servants.

Thus, my agenda was very simple: get stronger. So far, I did not measure up to the Voldemort of two days ago in either fighting ability or productivity (due to a different body) and was probably mortal. It was time to wake up and load everyone with work.

I slept for about 8 hours. Only about a tenth of my energy got restored- the rest was drained by the shields and defense charms I never took off. Breakfast was followed by standard "magical hygiene" potions: anti-allurement potion, potion against the use of body parts in potions and spells, and so on. Riddle in his reptiloid body had no need of them: qualitatively different biochemistry. But they won't be excessive for me. Time to apparate to the Lestranges.

In private, Rabastan gave me the polyjuice and samples of muggle hair - he chose several women and included their pictures with the hair. Bella was prattling about Neville. Rodolphus and Edward were absorbed by the newspaper.

"You are in the news, my Lord."

I took the newspaper. What was so interesting?

Attack on the Potters... Burnt ruins, no survivors found. Sirius Black's betrayal and death. To calm down the public, he was introduced as my right hand. Peter Pettigrew to be awarded the Order of Merlin, third class, as soon as he leaves St. Mungo's. Why not first class? Ah, he killed a couple of muggles while fighting Black. The investigators confirmed they were accidental casualties: Reducto indoors. Apparently all the deaths in that building got pinned on Black...

Attack on the Longbottoms, no survivors. Reportedly by You-Know-Who. How did they figure? Analysis of the anti-apparition rune stones? The roots dragged them underground before fire could destroy them? I should be more careful. Black had no living relatives aside from the girls married off to other families- no one would be searching for him. But Neville's grandmother might try to find the child.

"I am here on business, my loyal followers. First of all, I need to speak with some of my other servants. I will be inviting them here, to the manor. Second, I need a pensieve. I know you have several. Third, I'm leaving you these memories- they include everything on improving the body. I want my current body for everyday use - a secret only for you, my most faithful; the other, reptilian one- for battle and intimidation. You are to analyze everything and offer how to best achieve a transformation with the werewolf or metamorphagus mechanism. Next, there will be a full meeting in two days (or whenever I am back to normal, but they didn't need to know that). Write me a speech. Also, find me books and teachers on all fields of magic different from my normal repertoire. Lastly, I need Nagini and a ritual room with a large identification circle. I will conduct the ritual alone. And most importantly: I need any and all information on Slytherin's source."

"My Lord, thank you for your trust," said Edward, "but the Slytherin source has been lost for centuries, ever since his death. We will do everything we can, but chances are very small. The rest will be done as ordered."

"I also need several Death Eater uniforms. I will try to improve their protective charms. Bella, see me out and show me where to pick up the pensieve."

"Right away, Master!"

After walking out with my very attractive companion, I put up strong privacy wards. Doing this in someone's house and with their wife was very bad taste, but the matter was too important.

"Bella, do you remember that I gave you a small gold cup to keep in your vault?"

"Yes, my Lord! It has been safely stored there ever since! I carried out your will!"

"I need it. In ideal condition. Quickly and quietly deliver it to my house and hand it to me personally."

"Yes, my Lord," she answered flatly.

Bella talking to her Lord without fire in her eyes? Figured out the Lord was a dupe? No, Bella would be throwing killing curses. What happened? Getting into her head unnoticed won't work, thanks to her amulets and occlumency. Order her?

"Master, are you displeased with something?" Bella met my eyes.

It finally hit me. The cup was an important artifact that her beloved gave her for safekeeping. And now I was taking it back. Why? Doubting her loyalty? A change in favorites? Why take away a woman's only present for years of service?

"No, everything is excellent. Your loyalty is beyond doubt. Over the years in Gringotts, the cup should have absorbed ambient magic and become useful for a ritual," -the last part was improvised bullshit, and Bella was not an idiot. But if her Lord said so...

"I will go to Gringotts immediately! And prepare everything you need for the ritual!"

"You are a wanted criminal. Do try to stay incognito. In any case, give me the pensieve first."

I needed a pensieve to store my memories of brewing potent and illegal potions. Let Lily learn by example. She wasn't going to waste time with blood-replenishing potions and other rubbish forever.

There was only one problem: brewing required adding one's own energy, so quality and quantity of potions depended on the brewer's power. I needed to know Lily's exact potential, so she would neither skive nor burn out. So far, it did not look impressive. I could easily measure her reserve with a diagnostic circle. And Harry's, while I was at it.

I apparated to Lily. Left the pensieve and several Death Eater uniforms in the hall. Lily was in the basement, brewing. She flinched at the sight of me.

"The potions you asked for are ready, my Lord."

"Wonderful." I scooped them up but had no intention of using any. Even if she couldn't lie and slip in a poison or a dud potion, paranoia was a way of life. I planned to check the potions later. If they turned out well, low-rank soldiers could have them.

"We are going to perform a power-measuring ritual. Then you will go back to work."

Lily flinched again at the word "ritual." I stunned and transfigured her and Harry. They would hardly enjoy meeting the Leatranges, and I didn't want to explain to the Lestranges what I was doing with a mudblood. And polyjuice interfered with the ritual.

The Lestranges' ritual hall now had a diagnostic circle the size of a youth soccer field covered in runes. I warded the hall, took off all my personal defenses and stood in the center. Only two sacrifices - unconscious muggles - and the circle returned a string of numbers. Magic reserve and regeneration ten times larger than average. Human energy signature. Nothing new... Although, an apparent familiar bond with Nagini? I didn't feel it. Add it to the pile.

Next, I placed untransfigured and reenervated Harry in the circle. The baby was bawling- just stress, this ritual had no effect on the senses. More dead muggles, more results. Harry again stunned and transfigured. This time, the numbers were small. It was obviously stupid to compare a baby to an adult Dark Lord. I took out Edward's chart of magic development norms. Let's see... The child was under two years old. No, everything was normal for a slightly above average pureblood baby.

And then it clicked. Something was not right. Logically, a child of a pureblood and a muggleborm could not have a magic reserve similar to a pureblood.

A little digression. Since antiquity, magic has been equated to blood. Instead of "your magic is strong," we used to say "your blood is strong." Heredity was more important in the magical world. But where did the first purebloods come from and why were they so influential?

Money, sources or libraries did not make a pureblood. Only magical power did. Some, like Lucius, were born with both magical power and ancestral wealth. Some, like the founder of the Malfoy family, only had magical power and used it to gain wealth and status. So, at least initially, a mudblood was a weak witch or wizard.

But then again: heredity. In 99% of cases, two strong parents produced a strong offspring, two weak- a weak one. There were rare exceptions like Tom Riddle. At least the Inner Circle knew his father was a muggle. But he was still stronger than ten purebloods! That's why the purists accepted Voldemort as their leader- personal power decided almost everything. Riddle clearly didn't take after his muggle father or failure of a mother. Harry either got just as incredibly lucky or there was more to his mother than met the eye.

I put untransfigured but still unconscious Lily in the circle and stared at her. The definition of an average witch. Pushing the limit of what could be achieved by a conscientious muggleborm with good training. Or by a lazy half-blood. I looked into her mind. Since she was sleeping, touching her head with my wand substituted for eye contact. She must know about herself, right? No evidence of anything special. No gaps in memories. Average spells in battle, average power output...

I cast diagnostic charms. Nothing. She was an average witch. More specialized diagnostic charms. Average witch. The runic circle required her to have no magical interferences. Check. The object was free of external magic. This time, instead of determining her potential, I wanted to understand... So, I decided to check her energy field. This procedure was primarily medical: too time-consuming for battle and could be blocked with any shield. But Riddle occasionally liked to block off a part of a prisoner's energy field and watch him squirm. My purpose right now was not murder or torture.

Lily's energy field was consistent with previous readings: an average witch. But then I found something unusual. In short, the energy field consisted of a core (which determined the total amount of energy) and channels connecting it with the surface of the astral body (which determined energy regeneration rate). At that, their capacities were independent of each other. Somehow, most of Lily's channels looped onto themselves and cycled her magic in a closed off circle! And the core... imagine a sphere with an internal divider made of closed off channels. The smaller half was full of energy, the other was empty.

My first thought was that the girl was done for. Damage to the energy field, especially this extensive, was usually painful and fatal. But somehow she was feeling fine! One of the channels drew my attention. It looked like it did not want to be self-contained, but I couldn't see anything holding it in place. I directed a tiny speck of my own, maximally neutral energy into it. And it unfolded, changing from a loop into a normal cord connecting the core to the surface. Pain never came. Neither did any damage to Lily's material or astral bodies. Fascinating!

I looked over Lily's system once more. No signs of damage. The coloring was saturated and homogeneous, energy pulsed like a beating heart. I nudged one one the channels dividing the core, straightening it. The channel turned normal, and the hole it left started slowly leaking energy into the empty half. A tiny, thin stream.

What did we have here? Something or someone apparently blocked Lily's power. What to do? Even if I fixed everything perfectly, it looked like she would still be much weaker than me. And she could not escape the vow in any case. So, fixing it was.

This was not a curse. More like an uncomfortable position that numbed parts of the body. It was possible for her to undo if only she knew something was wrong. Why had no one noticed? Diagnostics usually only measured energy and regeneration rate. And there she was truly average. More detailed examination was reserved for suspected cases of energy field damage. No symptoms - no reason to check.

How did she end up this way? I could only guess. Accidentally did it to herself with muggle meditation? Someone "helped"? It did not matter. The important question was what to do with her. I could, of course, compare a sample of her blood to many of the English purebloods. But I honestly didn't feel like it was worth the effort. If she was someone's distant relative, so what?

I lifted the diagnostic charms. Two more dead muggles later, Lily's results showed she was equal to five average wizards. This made her third in England. Dumbledore, Voldemort, Lily Potter. How droll. Even Bellatrix was only three times the average.

To save her from shock, I covered the muggles' death with an illusion. To her it looked like I just waved my wand, and the circle glowed.

"Lord Voldemort is generous! I take care of my servants. From now on, you will become far more powerful! Such is my will!" I continued playing the histrionic. No need for her to know that any mediwizard could have done the same.

Lily was looking at me like I was an idiot. Sometimes legilimency was a disadvantage. Riddle's memories loudly demanded a round of Cruciatus. But it would serve no purpose. She will soon notice the difference.

I took her home, again stunned and transfigured. Put Harry back in his crib and ordered the house elf to take care of him- Lily did not need to know I used him in a ritual, even a simple diagnostic one.

Then I poured my memories of brewing potions into the pensieve. Nothing exceedingly difficult or disgusting, no decoctions with freshly extracted human hearts or the like.

Next was Lily's equipment. She knew zero occlumency. This posed a threat to me and all my plans. I found a mind-protecting amulet in the pile of Death Eater equipment. Average strength, static defense. Far from sufficient.

Still exhausted, I turned to a backup magic source: my blood. Drank a blood replenishing potion, cut my hand and began drawing runes on a plain pair of glasses from the same pile. The frame received a mind shield, static but powerful. The lenses got covered on both sides. Two average but dynamic defenses: the intruder could break through the outside layer of the continuously shifting labyrinth only to be stuck in the internal one. Any attempt to adjust to the internal layer would eject him through the external.

While charming the glasses drained only a bit of blood, increasing the strength of existing charms on the robe took a liter. A standard Death Eater uniform -this shapeless black robe- already came with charms of climate control, durability, magic resistance, blocking of smell... Could easily handle a burst of automatic fire or a weak wizard's attack. The mask was a masterpiece- defense against legilimency, sound filter, self-supportive breathing system. In short, almost identical to high ranking Auror equipment, only less cheery. The only downside was its price. Poor Lucius.

Blood runes were great in every respect except for their longevity. But a month was more than enough to come up with a better solution. And if not, I could always reapply them. Also, using my own blood meant the defenses would not work against me.

Most Death Eaters strived to look the the same. High ranking ones decorated their masks with drawings and patterns, fitted their robes to figure. Some wand-waving - and Lily had the most elaborately decorated mask and a tight-fitting robe. Snape should appreciate it. Although, such bold claim to a high spot in the hierarchy would make her life more difficult.

I returned Lily back to normal.

"My Lord, I can hardly work when I keep getting stunned, transfigured and moved around."

Be grateful you're not crucioed.

"I heard you. Here is the new list of potions for you to brew. You will also be brewing polyjuice. Because you are officially dead, you will be using it for the rest of your life. Here, choose your appearance," I handed her the pictures of women and two months worth of polyjuice I got from Rabastan.

She chose a thin blonde and drank the potion. Polyjuice really was something! Even her energy signature was disguised. To test for polyjuice, most wizards would need to use a recognition charm that requires touching the subject with the wand. Outside of Bellatrix's level of devotion, this was universally viewed as assault. The charm was also very slow and easy to block.

Next, I handed her a stack of books.

"These include occlumency, the basics of dueling and battle magic, and theory of magical blood heredity. Study everything. In two days there will be a Death Eater meeting, where I will introduce you as my student. From now on, you are Elena Ivanova, a Russian pureblood. Your husband of five years recently died in a failed potion experiment, and you decided to join me."

Pouring energy into potions required taking off most personal shields, so deaths from experimental potion explosions were common.

"Five years ago I was 16."

"Not an unusual age for pureblood marriages."

"Why do I need to go to the meeting? I could just keep brewing potions here. My Lord."

Then how are you going to seduce Snape? Dumbledore won't poison himself!

"My will is your law. Besides, I might be too busy to deal with you, so you will need to meet our resident potions master. He will give you your lists and instructions."

"Yes, my Lord. But why do I need to learn how to fight?"

"A situation might call for it."

"You want me to kill?"

The itch to cruciate her grew to near unbearable.

"Subordination, Elena. Don't provoke me to torture you. I don't plan on sending you into a battle. But if you get killed by a random Auror, I will not care what happens to Harry."

She shuddered.

"You would not defend me, my Lord?

"Only as much as I would any other Death Eater. I will not be near you 24/7."

"And what is this pureblood theory, my Lord?" her voice oozed skepticism. She thought it was an ideological wile.

"Wizards are not equally powerful, Elena. Most of the rifts between them cannot be breached with training. Read this book, it explains this very thoroughly. If you don't, I will known and punish you. You don't need to believe it: life will show you the truth soon enough.

She did not believe. But decided to keep silent.

"And now, Elena, we will perform another ritual."

She flinched, thinking I was going to stun her again. But not this time.

Lily was a muggleborn and knew nothing about the pureblood society. So, she would have to be a foreigner. The Brits and our closest neighbors- the French, the Dutch, the Spanish, the Germans - knew all the key players in Europe. But Russia was a giant, turbulent country. Rumors said it was so chaotic that in 1917 several pureblood families went into hiding, and no one knew what happened to this day. Apparently, they still survived but had never been seen. Therefore, a pureblood family appearing out of nowhere and joining the Dark Lord would not make the news. Russian sources were similar enough that a witch acclimated to Britain won't surprise anyone. And a Russian last name would not stand out when the Dark Lord already had Dolohov and Karkaroff.

Riddle traveled a lot in his youth and knew a dozen languages- nothing compared to Crouch Sr. Now I was going to transfer my knowledge of Russian to Lily with legilimency. It required both parties' consent; its ease and effectiveness depended on their power levels. We were both magically strong, and Tom's legilimency skills were enough for two. Lily won't speak perfect Russian immediately, but she will at least be able to passably answer Karkaroff's "how are you?" and speak English with a Russian accent.

Legilimency took a good part of the hour. Now all I had to do was wait for her mind to process the new information.

"What did you do, my Lord?" her thoughts were searching for a trap, evidence of mind control or illusion.

"I gave you knowledge of Russian. But it does not free you from work or studying."

"Isn't teaching me a profanation? Why would you teach a mudblood, my Lord?"

Was that sarcasm? A challenge? If she said that to the original Lord, death would have been a mercy.

"I am not interested in what you were born as, only what you have become. Only power matters. You will understand soon enough. As for blood purity... Its proponents' prestige and influence are most useful," I wonder if this sounded sufficiently dramatic? "But, of course, this is highly confidential information."

Otherwise she might be stupid enough to spout that to Rosier.

"When you are done teaching me, my Lord, will you order me to kill people?"

Why did she have to be so strung-out?

"So far your duties are limited to potions and self-defense. If you ask to participate in raids, I will grant you an opportunity."

"And how do you imagine it? Me, asking you for a ritual knife to stab my sister? My Lord?"

What in the world was going on? Did she have absolutely no self-preservation instincts? The girl had a bug up her ass that needed to be either taken out or shoved in further. I couldn't wait to dump her on Snape in exchange for poisoning Dumbledore, let them both suffer.

"How did you think I found your family?"

"Destroyed the Fidelius with ritual sacrifice? My Lord?"

"Fidelius has one weak spot- its keeper. You put your trust in the wrong man."

"Peter..."

What's so difficult to comprehend - you got betrayed. Her thoughts were amusing: she kept mulling over who should have been the keeper instead of Peter. Who she should have trusted. Snape?! Sure, she didn't know he was a Death Eater, but the rumors about him were nothing short of disturbing. Easy to guess he was a bad choice.

"Yes, Peter is a traitor."

"Meaning, he is your servant? Will you let me kill him?" I could feel her bloodlust.

"Peter Pettigrew is a pathetic excuse for a wizard. I am sure he will fail me within a month. I will allow you to kill him then."

As they say, it is always the quiet ones... And she seemed like such a kind girl. Anyway, it was time for her to think, cry, and get back work.

"I have business to attend to. Focus on potions and the books I gave you. Until you have decent occlumency, use this amulet and glasses. Here are your Death Eater robes and mask. I will personally collect you for the meeting. And one more thing: for everyone but you and the Lestranges, I look like this," -I cast the reptilian illusion on myself.

Lily recoiled. I turned away and apparated back to the Lestranges'. Bella was already waiting for me.

"Master, I am so happy to see you! Forgive us, but we cannot find your snake."

"Keep looking. For her or her body. Use your house elves."

"Master, Lucius Malfoy arrived at your call. He is waiting on you."

"I will receive him in the green parlor."

I did not trust Malfoy enough to apparate to his manor with depleted magic. Not that he would have the gall to attack, but his loyalty was ephemeral.

I walked to the green parlor, got comfortable behind the desk and invited Lucius in.

He appeared as luxurious as ever. I did not allow it to distract me. He may look like a regular peacock but could also boast the power of three average wizards. And a wand made from ingredients so illegal he had to carry it in an isolating artifact made into a cane.

"Welcome, my slippery friend. Let us discuss business."


	6. A Chat with Lucius

Why did I decide to speak with Lucius? Priorities. I considered the minister of finance more important than the minister of defense. There was no defense without money.

Most of the marked Death Eaters were either soldiers or narrow specialists. The most important and valuable ones made up the Inner Circle: twenty allies with the most magical or political power.

The organization was anything but homogeneous. Rare few fought for Riddle himself. Some fought for pureblood supremacy, expansion of rights for strong wizards (allow human sacrifice for the Sacred 28!) or enforced racism (you have muggle blood? Get out of our magical world!). Some were taking a stand against Dumbledore's politics (what do you mean these books are banned?! My grandfather wrote them! My only income comes from these potions, why are they suddenly illegal?!). There were some maniacs working as executioners and torturers. But the overwhelming majority consisted of hired help and opportunists looking to fish in troubled waters. The organization was well-financed, and part of that money was available to the members. And although Riddle brutally punished theft, trophies were fair game. It was easy to share other people's valuables.

How to secure their loyalty? I really wished I could send all potentially disloyal ones on suicide missions. But they would defect. And even if they died following orders, it would hardly be the last battle. Then what? Fight everyone myself? No man is an island, not even Lord Voldemort. Let's say I kill a squad of Aurors, then second, third... Sooner or later I would keel over with magic exhaustion. Or get caught with nearly spent reserve. Besides, large losses would lessen the flow of recruits. And previously neutral families would become enemies. Who wants to ally with losers?

But most of all, I was concerned with money. And Lucius was one of the richest wizards in Europe with great pull over the Ministry's finances.

"Hello, Lucius, my slippery friend."

"My Lord! The glory of your deeds precedes you, milord! Your spectacular victory over the Longbottoms and the Potters will open the eyes of anyone still doubting the power of pure blood..." Lucius talked and talked, and I was drowning in a sea of flattery.

The original Tom Riddle loved hearing about his greatness and uniqueness. But right now I wanted to talk business, not listen to laudations. Though they were certainly pleasant... What could be easier? Interrupt and ask leading questions. But that would be too unlike Riddle. Not to the extent of blowing my cover, but too many little incongruences meant uncomfortable questions.

According to Lucius's words, Lord Voldemort was stronger than all of the world's wizards put together, and Lucius would gladly to serve without receiving anything in return, but, alas, he had to keep misleading the enemy. Not even Tom bought it: he had thoroughly checked his Inner Circle with legilemency ages ago. Their death rate was low, and he spent plenty of time around them to find out everything he wanted.

Lucius kept singing me praises, and I was starting to feel uncertain: what if he truly was my most faithful servant? I shuddered. Checked myself for mental intrusion: all clear.

Ignoring Lucius's words, I decided to at least do something useful and stealthily practice legilimency. In magical vision, he sparkled like a Christmas tree- amulets, artifacts... Bypassing them was far from easy, it took me close to forty minutes to get to his occlumency defenses. Lucius was a powerful wizard, but he didn't have Dolohov's battle prowess or Snape's occlumency. And he was looking me right in the eyes, projecting devotion... After twenty more minutes, I was finally able to sift through his mind.

He has not changed one bit since the last time: only concerned with himself, his wife and son. His wife wasn't hard on the eyes, looked very much like Bella, only blonde. Their sex life wasn't bad either, only marred by the single child family curse... I was getting off track...

What did he think about me? If I win, he is a heroic servant and wants the chair of Magical England's Minister of Finance as his reward. If I lose, he is an innocent victim of the Imperius. To this end, he regularly ordered his servants to put him under the Imperius and drank a delayed memory-erasing potion before raids. How did he remember the raids, then? I see, placed the memories in his pensieve before the potion took effect and reviewed them once it was safe.

And what was his contingency plan if England ended up in ruins? Preservation charms on the manor and valuables, offshore accounts, a magical source in South Africa.

What about my diary? Locked it in a safe in his manor and stopped thinking about it. No reprimands here. I should still take a look at it. How did he plan to use a relic I entrusted him? If I die, plant it on an enemy; if I wrong him, determine its value and blackmail me?!

I got flooded with overwhelming anger. Hand automatically clutched the wand. All I wanted was to cruciate him over and over. He thought he was so clever, I'll show him clever!

But unfortunately, there were two weighty reasons against it. Unlike Tom, I understood that torture is not conductive to loyalty. Especially torture of someone rich and influential. Second, I couldn't rely on immortality. If only I was sure to come back from the dead, I would Crucio everyone for any transgression! But wait... Torturing everyone would leave me without servants. At most, with just Bella. And Lucius has not done anything against me. Punishing him for thoughts- what am I, God?

I held off the desire for torture with sheer force of will. Evidently, I inherited more from Tom than I originally thought. I should look into it. And add more functions to the Dark Marks of those who think themselves clever. Though, they would probably not line up for a slave brand...

Lucius noticed my reaction. Since he didn't know I was rummaging in his mind, he assumed this was a reaction to his previous sentence.

"Yes, my Lord, it is true! Dumbledore's political party deprives true wizards of their rights! Mudbloods are stealing our magic! Muggle lovers are wasting our inheritance! In the sacrosanct days of Salazar..."

I continued looking through his memories. Yes, he saw muggleborns as less than human. But he didn't understand the point of screaming about it. Why kill when you can exploit? Why use the Imperius when it can fail and requires maintenance? Just manipulate the situation so that muggleborns are happy to serve you. For example, become the head of a monopoly. And a lawmaker. Why announce they are the enemy when you can trick them and claim that no one is at fault - this is simply how life works? What was the point of genocide? Who was going to be his secretary, a Greengrass? He would have to constantly look over his shoulder just to keep his position! But some muggleborn with no money or connections would make an ideal servant.

Definitely rational ideas... I decided I heard enough flattery.

"Lucius, we need money."

"Here are the financial reports, my Lord! I assure you, everything is excellent. We are pursuing all avenues. From protection rackets with the riffraff to assassinating competition with werewolves; from buying magical farms to investing in new inventions..." I shrank the briefcase full of reports and put it away for later. Meanwhile, let's keep reading his thoughts.

Lucius' politics could be summed up as "you kill, I loot." Of course, he did not take watches off corpses. But transfer shares and kill the previous owners or have an auction with only one buyer- easily. Magical England's economy was slowly getting plundered, and the Death Eaters' coffers grew.

I searched for any evidence of theft or fraud. Nothing. Lucius had his cut, but how could he be so easily satisfied? I dug deeper. And there it was. Deals with muggles. Exchanging Imperios for precious metals. Shell companies. Understandable and profitable, so I decided not to punish him.

"Lucius, I think muggles must bring us profit when they die. You should get into the drug business. A small amount can be easily multiplied with a spell. Muggles will poison themselves and pay us for it."

"My Lord, why do we need muggle money? They don't use gold to back up their currencies! They can create more money than goods. They have a speculative bubble, not a proper economy."

"Then do your best to pop this bubble- the more problems muggles have, the safer the Statute. We don't need muggle money, but it can be used to buy precious metals and other things valued in the magical world. Even food to sell to mudbloods for galleons. And Lucius: I get a cut of all the drug profits. Open me a new vault. One third is yours, one is mine, one goes to the organization."

"My Lord, your wisdom is priceless!"

"And muggle politicians. Put them under subtle monitoring charms, to be aware of all their plans."

Lucius never dealt with muggles personally. But he earned money on them and thus kept in touch with their world.

"Lucius, tell me about the Death Eaters from a legal perspective. Especially international law. You have a law degree in addition to finance, do you not?"

"Under the ICW, mass murder, torture and executions to intimidate a population with the aim of seizing political power is classified as terrorism. We also fall under organized crime: "a centralized criminal enterprise that exploits fear and corruption in the pursuit of profit." The definition includes this paragraph: "They commit or threaten to commit acts of violence or intimidation; their actions are methodical, consistent, distinguished by discipline, hierarchy and secrecy; they isolate their leaders from direct illegal activities with layers of bureaucracy; they attempt to influence politics and trade through legal and illegal means."

"So we are terrorists and an organized criminal gang?"

"My Lord, we will soon win and pardon ourselves! Our enemies will become criminals!"

"What about Dumbledore and the Order?"

"He is trying to stop us from gaining power, milord."

"Wrong answer, Lucius. Is the Order of the Phoenix a legal organization? Is it registered? Pays or is financed by taxes?"

"No, my Lord."

"The Order of the Phoenix conducts paramilitary operations! Causes serious damage! Causes suffering to British magical citizens! We must file an international suit to declare the Order a criminal organization. Their leader is Chief Warlock: undeniable abuse of office! His title must be revoked! And then there is his so-called "Act of Seizure of Dangerous Dark Artifacts." I'm sure the Bullstrode's knife confiscated earlier this year has not been used for human sacrifice in generations! It was a harmless antique! And it was confiscated without reimbursement! This is a violation of private property! Ministry-sponsored robbery! "

"My Lord, it truly was a Dark artifact. It was confiscated after a court decision. And they received reimbursement. And-"

"The reimbursement was clearly insufficient! Lucius, who even wrote those laws? Dumbledore and his gang? What if tomorrow Wizengamot, under pressure from Dumbledore, passes a law that refusing a lemon drop is punishable by life in Azkaban? Or that all Malfoy properties are to be transferred to the Weasleys, with a reimbursement of one knut? Maybe he also fancies your wife and passes a law to make everything legal?"

"My Lord, I am afraid I cannot keep up with your mind."

"It is simple, Lucius. The Ministry violates our rights. Decides how we can and cannot use our magic. And the system is beyond idiotic: killing in self defense with an Incendio is up to three years; killing in self defense with a painless Avada is life in Azkaban! Moreover, the Ministry is stealing our property: our books, artifacts, even dried house elf heads! We are merely defending ourselves! Magical England is so far gone that we occasionally need to use the Unforgivables in our battle against usurpers and Dumbledore's puppets!"

"My Lord, the Ministry is a legitimate authority."

"Illegitimate! The right to private property is inalienable! No one has the right to take away people's artifacts! Besides, have you ever heard about a search of Crouch's house? Or the Weasleys'? Selective enforcement of laws is lawless!"

"My Lord, Crouch is a law-abiding citizen. And the Weasleys are too poor and stupid to be hiding anything."

"Lucius, organize searches of their houses. With international witnesses."

"Crouch has good wards, my Lord. We can't plant anything there. The Weasleys... they literally have nothing. They are also in the Order, protected by Dumbledore."

"We will plant something with Crouch, I will let you know how. And the Weasleys... We'll think of something. At the very least, the searches will fray the lemon fiend's nerves. And try to set it up for them to believe that the search party with international witnesses are disguised Death Eaters. If it causes a fight with fatalities, Dumbledore won't be able to wash his hands."

"My Lord, organizing searches of our enemies is possible, but I cannot include Death Eaters in the party."

"And you shouldn't. Let them simply do their jobs. Focus on improving the image of our organization and smearing the Ministry and Dumbledore. Albus cannot be a saint. Try to find something compromising. Dig into his past. Recruit journalists. If you are unable to find anything, we will get creative and falsify evidence. For example, he raped goats, tortured his sister, worked with Grindelwald; never dueled him and won his wand in cards or a drinking contest. Come up with something! But do not under any circumstances publish anything without getting my approval first."

"My Lord, there are many witnesses of Dumbledore's and Grindelwald's duel. The analysis of ambient magic over the battlefield showed-"

"All witnesses were paid. Or intimidated. Magical disturbances were falsified."

"My Lord, are you certain anyone would believe this?"

"Not this. But from now on you are my Minister of Propaganda. Or rather, Minister of Truth. Or Information. Come up with a nice-sounding title. Your job is to invent something people will believe. And create proof."

"It is... a great honor... my Lord. Your loyal follower will prove his usefulness to the noble cause..." Lucius ran on with renewed vigor.

I was starting to get a headache. Once again checked myself for foreign mental influence, charms, potions... Maybe covertly reading his mind while simultaneously examining myself was too strenuous? Or Lucius befuddled me? He will pay for that!

"Lucius, I have more orders for you. Do whatever it takes to get on the Hogwarts Board of Governors. Your goals are to increase funding, add new subjects, add heating to the entire castle, number the classrooms, add sexual education, increase safety regulations for quidditch, conduct complete medical exams of all students, create extracurriculars... Make everyone love do-gooder purebloods. And most importantly, drown the teachers and Dumbledore in paperwork. They need approved lesson plans. Proof of their qualifications. Detailed evaluation standards of student progress. Spending reports. Potion ingredients inventory. Accounting of everything grown in the greenhouses and brewed in potion classes. The more you waste their time, the less they will have for the Order. And make sure to ban the use of dangerous artifacts such as Time-Turners!" Let Lucius be Dumbledore's headache instead of mine.

Lucius' thoughts were in turmoil. He was afraid of the Lord's power and madness, at the same time worrying how little he will see his wife with this new schedule. Let's finish him!

"Lucius, do you remember me giving you a black book for safekeeping?"

Lucius started to sweat, thinking what this may mean. Loss of the Dark Lord's favor? The Lord found out about his disrespectful thoughts? Impossible, Lucius put on several mind-protecting amulets before every meeting. Different ones every time. No one can get through without alerting him. (Or maybe it was only a matter of time. You talk too much.) He would wear all of them at once if only they didn't conflict with one another.

I needed to give him an explanation. Something that would kill any desire to babble and even think about it. And reinforce my image of the insane Dark Lord.

"I decided you are too valuable to be keeping it."

Lucius' confusion reached a whole new level. A black book... What could be so dangerous even inside an enchanted safe, inside containment circles in a warded room?

"If I may ask, what was I keeping?"

He never really examined it, not willing to risk the Lord's wrath. Saw that it was a dark artifact with a strong aura of death. What is it? Who cares? Excessive initiative would only lead to punishment.

"Lucius, it is the Necronomicon. I need it back. Soon."

A horcrux could live a pseudo-life by controlling other people, but the Necronomicon sounded infinitely more dangerous. It was one of the wildest and most absurd legends of the magical world. A book that recorded every dark spell and ritual ever created. According to the story, it was made of human skin and contained the souls of wizards who tried to use its knowledge. There was also some nonsense about it moving around on its own volition and eating things.

Lucius' panic was warming my heart. Lord Voldemort never joked. So Lucius believed there was a bomb in his manor... Where his wife and son were at this very moment.

He tried to apparate, but I had put up privacy and anti-apparition wards before inviting him in. He tried to take down the wards (how rude!), but, naturally, failed. He ran towards the exit, but the door was locked...

"Lucius, stop!"

"I am hurrying to follow your order, my Lord! I will immediately return your priceless artifact! I am not worthy of keeping it! My Lord, your will shall be done!" Lucius continued to yank the door.

He was frantically running through his options. Reducto at the door? Not guaranteed to work, the Lestranges' manor was charmed to the max. Attack the Dark Lord? He was no match. Ask the Lord to let him go home? Breaking ranks, Crucio, wasting precious time. Call a house elf? It cannot open the safe.

"I said stop. I am not finished," but I was interrupted.

"Dobby!" screamed Lucius.

"What does Master-" the house elf also got no chance to finish.

"Get Narcissa and Draco out of the manor! Tell them to go to France! For a week! And to get examined by the best French healers! Then go back and guard the safe! Yes, that one! Order the rest of the house elves to leave! And activate all the wards you can! Do it now!"

Dobby popped away.

I probably went a bit too far with the Necronomicon... The only silver lining was that his brazen disobedience justified punishment.

"Crucio," I said. Lucius fell before the still locked door and started writhing.

One of the reasons for Voldemort's fondness of the Cruciatus was his servants' defenses. Torturing them with anything else was difficult. He could, of course, break through or order to lower them, but it would take time and effort. And what if there was a sudden auror raid? Or a mandrake under the table? Goodbye, servants. And the Dark Lord ordering to remove their shields? Is he so weak that he can't torture a resisting subject?

The Cruciatus got through any shield. Its strength depended on both power and desire to cause pain. What could I say... My Crucio was much weaker than the original's... And I felt no quasi-sexual pleasure promised by Riddle's memories. Who were our main Cruciatus experts? Tom and the Lestranges? Maybe it was displaced sexual frustration? Riddle haven't had sex in years, Edward was a widower, Rabastan a bachelor. Bella's and Rodolphus' marriage was far from happy, no children... I decided to test this ridiculous hypothesis later.

The sight of Malfoy writhing on the floor pleasantly stroked my ego. I felt vindicated for my wasted time, despite the remaining headache. I canceled the spell.

"Get up. Get back in your chair. I have not finished talking."

My use of torture was perfectly legitimate. And Malfoy was happy: his family evacuated, the manor can be rebuilt if necessary.

"You will personally bring me the Necronomicon. Not a word to anyone. Hand it to me in the Lestranges' manor."

"My Lord, if this book will be here... Maybe we should have Death Eater meetings elsewhere?" he asked with a glimmer of hope.

"No. I control the book. It is a part of me. And it is a secret."

At that, Lucius truly began to shake. Keeping the Necronomicon was one thing. The legend said such people sometimes survived, but everyone who ever tried using it perished. Lucius's thoughts turned to betrayal and destroying of the book. Many have tried, all lost their souls... And using it led to the same... Defect to Dumbledore? The Necronomicon would land a fate far worse than life in Azkaban, and his family would spend the rest of their days in high security magical quarantine. Quietly giving it back to the Dark Lord was ideal. The Lord will either die or use his power to give Lucius the seat of the Minister of Finance.

I should probably research myths and legends for a better idea of what can and cannot be mentioned.

"Lucius, we will soon have new allies. Prepare gifts. And a speech."

"If I may ask, my Lord, who are they? I need to know what gifts will be appropriate and what to promise them."

"Acromantulas, Lucius."

"Acromantulas?! They are extremely dangerous and untrainable! You will have difficulties making a deal with them, my Lord."

"And that is exactly why you will be coming with me. I plan to move them from the Forbidden Forest. You will find a new space for them to live away from humans. And arrange a portal to transport them."

"You plan to act so close to Hogwarts? What about Dumbledore, milord?"

"We will choose the best opportune moment. Inform me once you know the times he will be away from the school."

"Yes, my Lord. May I go?"

"Yes."

"My Lord! May I beseech you, milord, to come to my manor with me? So I may return your "item" promptly?"

Lucius hoped that if anything went wrong, he could hide behind me. I originally planned to stay here and speak to others... But what if Lucius called on someone else? And they scanned the book and saw it was not the Necronomicon? I had to come.

"I will go with you. Perhaps I overestimated your power, and it is too dangerous for you."

I took down the wards, and we apparated to Malfoy's manor. It was even more splendid than the Lestranges'. Gorgeous gardens. I wonder, how much money does Lucius actually have?

Magical vision showed some of the wards were hastily raised. Malfoy cut his hand and placed it against the door. The glow receded, and we entered.

"Dobby!" called Malfoy.

"Dobby answers Master's call, Master."

"Did Narcissa and Draco leave the manor?"

"Yes, Master. But Mistress was very unhappy."

"Bring me all the defensive amulets you can find. And the dragon skin suit."

With a flick of his wand, Lucius changed into his Death Eater robe. When he put on the mask, I almost got thrown out of his mind: the mask had great anti-legilimency charms. Lucius put on many additional amulets (luckily none for mind protection) and, finally, his dragon skin suit.

"Follow me, my Lord."

Lucius lowered the wards protecting his study. Pulled a head of a statuette to open a secret door. As we were walking down, he kept opening rune-covered doors with his wand. The third door was lying on the floor and looked burnt. From the inside. Lucius' anxiety grew.

"Someone tried to steal my priceless Necronomicon from you, Lucius? Why was I not informed?"

"I don't understand why the alarm didn't go off... Any attempt of breach or unauthorized entry should have sent me a signal and activated additional defenses," -he pointed at statues in the alcoves. They stood motionless...

"There are no provisions against a breach from the inside, my Lord," Lucius hid behind me.

I still haven't recovered, but there wasn't going to be a battle. I remembered how much the soul transfer roughed me up. Whatever effects it had on the horcruxes, they were not going to be mild, either. I wonder how it changed my diary.

"Follow me, Lucius."

No more doors needed opening. Each was on the floor in progressively worse condition. Scorched walls, broken golems. At last, we reached a square underground room, about ten by ten yards. In its center once stood a safe, which had been reduced to a mass of melted metal. Runes on the floor were partially erased and inactive. If there were any other objects in this room, they left no traces... I should frame this to my advantage.

"It appears I got here in time, Lucius. You needed to take better care of my property."

"My Lord, your humble servant was not worthy... My Lord, it looks like a ritual was performed here."

"Someone was here? When?"

"I last came here six months ago, my Lord. No one else can enter. And the systems at the entrance showed no one has been here since then."

I cast diagnostic charms. Trying to in understand what happened would take too long, but I could at least determine the time of events... The symbols in the air were unequivocal: massive discharge of energy this Samhain.

So, the soul swap somehow affected the diary. Why was there no explosion at Lily's house? Soul entering a living body instead of an object? The wand I was holding influenced something? A volatile reaction between the energy and defenses of this room? Or artifacts around the safe? Or the safe's material?

"Lucius, it seems that on Samhain, the book got bored and decided to leave... And your defenses were not able to contain it."

"My Lord, the explosion here was enormous. I think the book is destroyed..."

We'll see. I flattened the glob of metal into a pancake. Lucius had a nice safe: the runes were destroyed, yet the material itself was still difficult to transform. And there, on a piece of metal, laid a nondescript black book.

I focused on the diary. Initially, Tom enchanted it to process information: it could search through his notes, combine symbols, help with arithmancy. Then he made it a horcrux. A horcrux could defend itself as is, but Tom added many more defensive and camouflage charms on top. Camouflage charms definitely came off. And everything else... got strangely intertwined and sparkled in magical vision with dark magical energy, traces of human sacrifice and an uncanny energy field that closely resembled a living being's. The information structure looked solid... But it was clearly no longer a horcrux. Nothing dangerous, either...

Lucius was standing behind my back, trying to blend in with he wall. He saw the same thing I did but understood even less. However, the strange, profound malice was impossible to miss even among a hodgepodge of other magic it radiated.

"My Lord, it... it is not damaged after this?"

An interesting question. Before, I could think of text or images, and the diary projected them on its pages. I ordered it to open. It did. Lucius jumped back. Then looked at the empty pages over my shoulder.

I continued the test. On one page appeared the Dark Mark. On the other - a sentence I ordered. "The Necronomicon is ready to serve You, Master." It worked. I summoned the book, and it flew right into my hands.

Now, this was bizarre. Why did my shields not stop it? My wand had been soaked in my blood, so it made sense for the shields to ignore it. And the book? It stored a part of Riddle's soul. I had something of his within me, so the diary also counted as a part of me? I had to figure this out. But obviously not now and without Lucius.

Lucius watched me, waiting for the book to devour my soul- he saw it go straight through my shields. But it behaved like a normal book, not a dark artifact.

"Lucius, don't just stand there. I already told you: the book is a part of me. Bring me your strongest isolating container. I will be taking it with me."

"Dobby! Isolating container! The strongest one! Here, now!"

Dobby brought something resembling a roll of wallpaper. In magical vision it looked like absolute void. The house elf wrapped the diary in several layers. I could no longer feel it and put it in my pocket.

"Lucius, I probably don't need to remind you to keep all of this secret. You never had this artifact. Or seen it."

"Yes, my Lord! I will destroy all the evidence! The entire safe! I know people who will confidentially clean up the ambient magic! And then I'll destroy my memories. No one will know!"

"Who else knows you kept it here?"

"No one! Only I and the house elf watching the safe..." Lucius halted and looked at Dobby.

"Incendio" he said, pointing his wand at the elf.

Heh, so that's what they mean by job burnout. Lucius poured so much power into the spell that it left no ashes.

I should be more careful when referencing ancient legends. This time I got lucky, but it would not do to count on fortune.

"In this case, I will leave you. Destroy the evidence. And don't forget about your other orders. We will have a full meeting soon."

I went back to the Lestranges', sat in the same chair and called on Bella.

"My Lord, Aurors are traipsing around everywhere, I had no chance to get your gift from our vault yet."

"Bella, Gringotts is impossible to rob, is it not?"

"Yes, your item is in good hands, Master!"

"Is this backed by a law? Compensation for lost or damaged property stipulated in the agreement?"

"There has never been a precedent, my Lord. But the bank is legally responsible for everything stored on its territory."

"How often do those shrimps check inside the vaults?"

"I don't know, my Lord."

"Did you have anything valuable in that vault, aside from my gift?"

"Money, jewelry, antique weapons. Rodolphus' wedding gifts."

"Was all your money in that vault?"

"No, my Lord. Some of the money is in this manor, some in foreign vaults and accounts."

"Get your lawyers, Bella. I have information that the contents of your safe could have been damaged. Dumbledore wanted to rob us of all our money. If he couldn't take it out of the vault, he likely tried to destroy it!"

"But, my Lord, attacking Gringotts means a conflict with the goblins. It is the last thing Dumbledore needs..."

"When you return with the cup, give me your memories of what happened in the vault."

"Yes, Master."

"And for now, recommend me some books. On magical lore, legends, ancient artifacts, family treasure. Especially the Founders' artifacts."

"My Lord, I will prepare everything for you... In our library, books on this topic are in the "Myths, Legends, Fairy Tales" section. You always skipped it before."

"Bella, I believe you will do everything perfectly. By the way, have you found my snake yet? Or any unusual magical disturbances?"

"Nothing yet. But we continue searching. Perhaps you could try calling on her through your familiar bond?"

"I can't feel the bond, Bella. I am afraid something might have happened... If so, find her body."

Actually, a familiar bond connected souls. Maybe my soul transfer destroyed the bond rather than the familiar. Nagini may still be alive. But why couldn't the Lestranges find her after so long? Did she escape? The wards shouldn't let her through...

"Search for my snake together with the others. The cup business is a secret, for you and me only. Understood?"

"My Lord, I am your most faithful servant..."

"Go attend to your tasks. I need to think."

Bella walked out. The view from behind was... impressive... Tom's memories showed he stopped reacting to women after the third horcrux. How fortunate they didn't affect me!

But first I had to understand what happened to the horcruxes. Gather and examine them. Are they connected to me? Pose any danger?

Unfortunately, I couldn't do it without help. Need tread carefully and not to share too much... Who could help me? Who knew obscure spells, kept up with cutting-edge magical developments, had access to rare substances, testing equipment, old artifacts, new inventions? The answer was obvious: the Unspeakables. Mad scientists pushing the boundaries of magic. Or defending people from failed experiments and unusual objects: the Veil of Death alone was enough trouble! I only had one contact in the Department of Mysteries: Rookwood. Time to summon him for an audience.


	7. Cruciate Not, Pardon!

_(The title of this chapter doesn't make much sense in English. It's a play on the Russian phrase "execute not pardon" that illustrates the importance of commas.)_

* * *

If speaking with everyone else was going to take as much time as it did with Malfoy... I drank a potion of accelerated magic regeneration. At least I could use this as a recovery break. It was hardly a potion to be taken regularly... No matter, I'll rest more later.

I took out Malfoy's briefcase with financial reports. Numbers, formulas, calculations. To a layman this would look like jumbled garbage. Even my magically enhanced mind struggled to comprehended it.

Rookwood waked into my study. He was middle aged, tall, wrinkled and scarred from a disease, with greying dark hair. Riddle's memory prompted that he was a calm, well-adjusted man. Cunning and slippery, with a true gift of persuasion. Aside from being a "scientist," he stood just below Bellatrix and Dolohov in dark and battle magic. His explosive curses were notoriously powerful.

I put the reports back.

"My Lord, what is your will?"

"Report on what I ordered you."

In magical vision, before me stood a powerful wizard with unusual amulets. Less than Malfoy wore and none decorated with gemstones. I had no time or desire to spend an hour on legilimency for each servant. Riddle's memory of previous sessions said Rookwood was loyal. He was dissatisfied with ever expanding bans on magic that reached even the Unspeakables. He served Riddle to save knowledge from oblivion and magic from stagnation.

"My Lord, recruitment at the Department of Mysteries is problematic and carrying items out is close to impossible, but I was able to copy the blueprints of several innovations, including..."

He began explaining the advantages of refined spells over the standard ones... It took focus to think over his words, like listening to theoretical physics in a foreign language.

"...therefore, rotating the wrist in type 14 spiral motion will reduce the expended energy by 0.4%, which, when used in any ritual with double Ignis, will allow us to..."

This method was not necessarily better, just different... Since type 14 rotation would require either a trigger word or increasing the complexity of the spell pattern... Ok, stop. My thoughts were getting off track. There will be plenty of time to delve into science once I win the war.

"I must interrupt you, Augustus. I remember the information from your last report. I had some ideas about how we can use it. The Department of Mysteries stores prophecies, correct? I need you to bring me one."

Severus only told me the first part. What if the end said that I will die if I don't adopt Harry Potter? Or that he will grow up, seduce Bellatrix, and I will die from a broken heart?

Prophecies... Vague probabilities... Both Tom and I viewed them with disdain. Tom studied divination after Hogwarts. For two weeks. It was the only time he ever killed a teacher before finishing his studies.

"My Lord, there is a truly enormous number of prophecies stored in the Hall. Their veracity has never been proven. There is also the hypothesis of self-fulfillment: simply believing in a prophecy causes people to act in the predicted manner. For instance, in the fourteenth century..."

Ignore the prophecy? It made sense. But my predecessor already got entangled with it. Lily and Harry were living in my house. If it included a line like "and an otherworldly soul shall make the Hero's mother a Death Eater," it would certainly be an argument to its credibility.

Riddle acted like a Gryffindor, attacking the Potters so soon. And alone with no support. What if the baby had powers? Or a specific power against Riddle? Or instead of a quiet muggle cottage he was greeted with traps, squads upon squads of Aurors, Albus and Moody? He should have sent servants. If the recon party killed the Potters - problem solved. If the Potters defeated them - I would know the enemy's power. In any scenario, the initiative was on my side, so I needn't risk my own behind.

Although... what if Harry was my son, I vowed to protect him and then got selective amnesia? No, impossible: no one with horcruxes could procreate. Why did I have to deal with this stupid circus? When I become Minister, I'll have all prophets executed!

"Augustus, just bring me the prophecy made by Sybill Trelawney, heard by Albus Dumbledore in Hog's Head in January 1980, mentioning me and one other person."

"My Lord, only those named in the prophecy can take it off the shelf. Anyone else would go insane"

Riddle didn't know that part... Would I really have to go to the Ministry myself?

"What about under the Imperius? Then insanity would be no impediment."

"No, my Lord. Not even standing next to the puppet and casting the Imperius before and after he touched the prophecy."

"Catch it from the falling shelf? Straight into a bag? Or have an animated object take it? Have it eaten by an animal? Brought to me with the shelf?"

"No, my Lord. Everything is accounted for. I can find the right prophecy, but you must pick it up personally. Or find the other party and make them do it."

Now this was very bad. I really didn't want to stick my neck out so soon. Force Harry or Neville? They were not even two years old! Though if they drank an aging potion and went under the Imperius... No, that's idiotic. They would still have baby minds and never make it. Would I really have to go myself?

"Think, Rookwood. If you can't come up with a solution, we will prepare two plans: my stealthy infiltration and a raid. In case of the raid, we need to cause massive damage and take everything not nailed to the floor. Then rip off and take the rest."

"Yes, my Lord."

"I am also concerned about Time-Turners. Can we steal them? Or even better, destroy? Is it possible to go back in time by any other means?"

"My Lord, I am against destroying Time-Turners! Time is an incredibly fascinating research subject. Time turners cannot be used against you by changing the past: recall the Eloise Mintuble case. Despite their seeming potential, time-turners are only used for mundane purposes: work, reading, extra sleep."

My itch to torture came back in full force. But Rookwood could not be Crucio'd. They had daily checkups at the Department of Mysteries, and the evidence that he's been tortured, especially with the Cruciatus, would be noticed right away. Followed by interrogation and blown cover.

"Then we will steal them. And you will be free to research them. In a hidden, warded room."

Of course not. The time turners will be destroyed in an accident. Together with him. Otherwise, what if some desperate soul went back and killed Riddle at the orphanage? Would I never exist in this world?

"This is acceptable, my Lord."

"Now tell me about the Veil."

"The Veil of Death is located in the Death Chamber. The hypotheses are that it is a death curse stretched and suspended in space-time, a portal to the afterlife or another world, or a molecular fission anomaly. In the past it was used for disposal of artifacts and executing prisoners. Very convenient: nothing thrown through it ever comes back."

"I need diagnostic rituals. Every one you can find. Also, identification charms for body, energy field and soul."

"My Lord, do you want to send a ghost through the Veil? We already tried, but perhaps conducting parallel diagnostics..."

I didn't. I wanted to check my diary with new methods from the Unspeakables. But he did not need to know. I would let him believe I wanted to test the Veil, then use rituals developed for one artifact with an aura of death on another one. It might work.

"And time travel without a Time-Turner?"

"Absolutely impossible. As someone travels through time, the object propelling them experiences the effects of the time stream: ages for centuries in exchange for seconds of the person's displacement back in time. Time-turners are made from "ageless" extraterrestrial material found in some meteorites; it is the only material capable of withstanding the time stream. All attempts to use time-altering charms or potions resulted in ancient corpses traveling back in time because the subject and the object were one and the same."

Then this was not a threat.

"You told me about a "brain room," where you keep brains in an aquarium. As I understand, this is an attempt to develop artificial intelligence? Can these brains be used for spell and ritual calculations?"

"This is precisely the reason they were developed, my Lord. But so far we have been unable to get them to work. The brains behave like aquarium goldfish, even though all diagnostics show they are intelligent."

"Have you tried the Cruciatus?"

"No, my Lord, they are too valuable... Perhaps we should, on a single specimen..."

"Rookwood, what can you tell me about the Space Chamber?"

"It was created in response to the muggle space program. The idea is extreme long-distance apparation to other planets with no ambient magic from the sources. It is still in early stages."

"The models are three-dimensional, correct? Can we use the Earth model for espionage? Or finding unowned magic sources?"

"The models were created for measuring interplanetary distances... It should be possible to get some information about the planet surface, but I'm not certain about magic sources..."

"Try it. Anything else of substance to report, Rookwood?"

"Not exactly, my Lord. But I have a contact in the Department of Magic Games and Sports. Ludo Bagman. He unknowingly provides me with information that can be useful for terrorist acts. Do you want me to give it to our operatives?"

"Can we put him in the Head chair of his department? How much influence do you have over him?"

"He is an idiot, but people love him. Quidditch fan. But the current Head will not vacate the seat any time soon: he is young and only recently took office. He is well-guarded: we already tried attacking with werewolves and dropping a muggle plane with enchanted explosives on his house."

"Have a dossier on him on my desk next time. We will think of something. Discuss ideas for his liquidation with the Lestranges. You are free to go."

Rookwood left to work on his orders. Next entered one of Riddle's favorites, the elder Rosier. He was one of the original Death Eaters, and Tom always commended him: leader, fighter, executioner, sponsor, one of the most fanatical muggle and mudblood exterminators. Rosier's son grew into his carbon copy, same maniacal Death Eater. They oversaw Tom's only "death camp", where captive muggles and wizards got turned into undead en masse.

"Hello, Rosier." I said, "How many muggles do we kill per year?"

"Not enough, my Lord. Around 4000 missing persons plus about the same number unaccounted for by muggle statistics."

I personally saw no point in exterminating muggles, except, of course, as ritual material. Control, or rather guidance, was a different matter.

"We need to keep a lower profile. Imperio the muggles, make it look like criminal squabbles or immigration. Work with Lucius on influencing politicians. Have known deaths recorded as accidents, suicides... Muggles are pathetic but dangerous with their sheer numbers. We need to safeguard the Statute. We also need to rein in the lower tier of the organization. We are close to winning. Muggles are our property to be used in rituals. If they kill muggles or mudbloods outside raids or other sanctioned activities, they must pay a fine. Additionally, steal corpses from cemeteries. Obviously the quality of not so fresh undead will be low, but they can still be used as shields or to set off traps."

Of course, sadists were not just at the bottom of the organization. I simply wanted to maintain my muggle-hating psycho reputation while reducing civilian losses. When I win they will be the foundation of my nation. The resistance will be killed. Killing for no reason... Pointless. The plan should work. Usually, the ones most into playing with helpless victims were also the ones who least wanted to pay.

"Rosier, if I remember correctly, you complained we are spilling too much magical blood?"

"My Lord, I would never doubt your decisions..."

Why oh why do I want to cruciate everyone so much? Their disagreements with my ideas? Or Riddle's legacy?

"Stop by the Lestranges. I spared Neville Longbottom. One more noble line will survive. His parents died for refusing to join me. Don't spread it around: only the Lestranges and Lucius know about Neville, and I will tell Nott later. Think about how to kill Augusta Longbottom and reach their money. You are free to go, Rosier."

Rosier left, and Nott walked in. He was Rosier's antithesis: also one of the first Death Eaters but not particularly loyal and unhappy with cruel treatment of captives and losses among purebloods. Naturally, this hasn't won him any favors with Tom.

"Hello, Nott."

"My Lord."

"I though on your words about not killing muggles and mudbloods, at least not in the same way and numbers we currently do."

I didn't need legilimency to see that he was waiting to be hit with a Crucio. That was not the plan: his loyalty was already dubious, and I wanted to give him a new task.

"And I decided they have some merit. Begin recruiting mudbloods. Naturally, they can't hope to marry us, have access to our knowledge or receive Dark Marks; they will remain a second class. But we will provide payment and guaranteed safety for their service. As for muggles... Most are trash, but you should be able to recruit some special forces operatives and scientists. Let them assist with planning, calculate runic circles, write textbooks, teach Muggle Studies, produce semi-finished golems and other items for us to enchant. Maybe use mathematicians as lab assistants. We can pay them in muggle money or disease cures. Bind disloyal ones with vows or erase their memories after use."

Too pro-muggle? No, not really: I simply dumped Nott's own initiative back on his shoulders. It could be viewed as compromise, mockery, punishment... It wasn't as if I ordered him to open a charity for muggles. Only put the trash to use towards strengthening our organization. Let Nott do the work.

"As for your question regarding the loss of magical blood... Those morons rejected the magical world and our ancient traditions! For instance, the Longbottoms. I was ready to spare them, offered them to join me three times! I would have let them sit on the sidelines or emigrate. But they stubbornly kept casting Avadas at me! Obviously, I killed them. If Frank's mother tries to avenge them, I'll kill her too. But their baby did nothing wrong and has no plans against me. Lord Voldemort is merciful! I spared Neville Longbottom's life and personally carried him out of the ruins! You can ask the Lestranges to view him. But no one is to know about it except you, Rosier, Malfoy and the Lestranges. Go. Let your loyalty never waver ."

Next was Mulciber. One of the original Death Eaters. A rare psycho. Expert on showboat executions and terrorist acts. Leader of the project "Subjugation."

"Hello, Mulciber. Your Imperiuses and Confundus chains keep benefiting our cause. I especially liked your latest idea with mandrakes- portkeying them to magical and muggle public events. Too bad that one football stadium had anti-sonic charms."

"My Lord, I am your faithful servant..."

"But now we must focus on more important things." I interrupted him, conjuring a parchment, "Here is your list of priority tasks.

First, The Potters' and the Longbottoms' funeral is coming up. Many of our enemies will be in attendance. Organize explosions during the funeral. But be careful: Moody and Albus will be there. I don't need losses among my servants. While Dumbledore and Aurors are busy at the cemetery, have our operatives set up more terrorist acts at other locations. Also, locate Augusta Longbottom. She will definitely want to get revenge. Her son was a strong wizard, so she can't be a feeble old granny, however she acts. I will personally kill her to prevent losses on our side.

Next. I know this is not your field, but I need you to find Andromeda Black, her daughter and mudblood husband. Bring them to me alive and unharmed- no torturing! Andromeda is a pureblood, and mistreating her will anger her sister, Bellatrix. Understood, Mulciber? And her halfblood daughter is allegedly a metamorph, a rare specimen of great interest to me. I need her alive in ideal condition. The mudblood husband needs to be tested. Their daughter's power indicates he might be a halfblood. Bring him in alive and healthy. If you can't find enough qualified manpower for the operation, I will personally back you up. Understood?"

"Her husband is definitely in the Order." replied Mulciber, "Dumbledore hid them well. They will be hard to find and even harder to capture unharmed."

"If you don't want to feel mine and Bellatrix' wrath, you will find a way."

Actually, I had no idea what Bellatrix thought of her sister. She would probably be delighted kill anyone on my orders.

"And lastly, find and bring me Horace Slughorn. Also alive and well, but you may torture him a little. I can use another potions master."

In truth, I just remembered he could be a witness to the existence of my horcruxes: Tom blabbed a bit too much to him back in school. I needed to see if he told anyone else.

"We have been searching for Slughon for a while. He is well hidden."

"Search better. And check the muggle world."

"What would a pureblood wizard of the Sacred 28 do among muggles?"

"Hide from other pureblood wizards of the Sacred 28. Do it."

I really wanted to cruciate him for being such an idiot, but it wouldn't help anything.

I greeted my next visitor. Everyone saw him as simply the Ministry executioner of dangerous creatures, but he did much more. Many of those creatures went to the Death Eaters instead of under his axe, and contraband suppliers became our employees.

"Macnair, what can you tell me about your lovely animals?"

"Business as usual, milord. We keep selling ingredients from executed creatures' body parts and sneaking aggressive dangerous animals to our enemies. Recently, a muggle village got a dragon. It burned quite a bit before dragon tamers could subdue it. We also planted a Nundu in a magical zoology class consisting of ten mudbloods and one halfblood. There were no survivors. Moreover, the Nundu was able to kill three Aurors before they took it out. Its body went to the Ministry and got misplaced due to a clerical error. So we killed several enemies and made money on the ingredients in one swoop. Muggles have been so pathetic that there were mass psychoses from one Boggart, and pixies caused an explosion at a chemical plant. Right now we are working on a new project: planting a chimera. An extremely rare creature. Its price and power are very high, so you should choose an important target yourself. It would be best if Dumblodore could not interfere: he is probably the only one capable of subduing it only bad news is that we have not had any manticores for a long time. And all attempts to hatch a basilisk or find a seller of eggs have been unsuccessful."

Well, I knew where to find a basilisk. And not just any basilisk but a centuries old one that had been marinating on top of a strong magic source. But how to reach it without bumping into Albus?

"I am happy with your progress, Macnair. Keep it up. Think of the best "gift" for the Potters' and the Longbottoms' funeral. We might use your Chimera. For now, hold on to the most rare ingredients- I may need them soon. You are free to go."

Next entered Dolohov. Strong wizard and soldier. Educated in Durmstrang. Dark Arts expert. But he had two major weaknesses: despite having quadruple the average reserve, he hasn't fully accustomed to British sources, so his regeneration rate was no more than average. And for some unknown reason (curse, birth defect?) he could barely shield from stunning curses.

"Dolohov, we need more soldiers."

"We already mobilized everyone we could, my Lord. We are down to Hogwarts seventh years. But their value in battle is near zero."

Tom could not stand dissent. But I will at least consider my servants' advice.

Technically, he was right. But I was not Riddle, my goals didn't include exterminating mudbloods. In my world, people's value would be determined by their usefulness. Still, my power and Slytherin heritage made the purebloods my most natural allies...

"Surely we can find mudbloods who will want to torture and kill other mudbloods, especially when they get paid for it. Who counts as a mudblood willl be decided by us. Recruit them and prepare their papers. As long as they stay loyal, they will stay halfbloods."

"Mudbloods don't have much magical power, milord. Will they be useful?"

"Yes. At the very least we can put them in the vanguard as a live shield. And in secretarial positions."

"We will need to give them at least some minimal instruction. I don't have any free teachers or time to do it myself."

"Find some 16-17 year old purebloods who are homeschooled or on a break."

"Not very many have the knowledge we need at 17."

"Have them teach whatever they can."

Hogwarts was not the only magical school in Britain, only the largest and most prestigious. It accepted the elites (magical and financial) and powerful muggleborns. At a location so overflowing with magic, children could cast weak spells all day long. Away from Hogwarts, their regeneration would dramatically lower, to a huge surprise of the most clueless ones. The majority of muggleborns attend small schools: couple dozen students and 2-3 general subject teachers. Even a Hogwarts dropout could teach them something new.

"My Lord, pureblood children at that age are morons. They all think themselves great Dark wizards because they learned the Unforgivables and put on a black robe."

"I know, Antonin. Write a brochure with twenty or so pages of the basics. Give them out to our new "instructors" as their lesson plan. And one more thing. I am dissatisfied with you. A strong fighter like you being susceptible stunning curses is an atrocity. Yes, I know about your defect. Talk to Malfoy. Tell him to find you anti-stunning amulets compatible with your other defenses, free of charge. Go."

He was replaced by Crouch Jr. Amusing how the father was one of my main enemies, and the son one of my most faithful servants. Same name. Both idealists. Both cruel, self-righteous fanatics.

Barty's loyalty rivaled Bella's, he would gladly cut off his own wand arm at my whim.

"My Lord! I am your faithful servant!" he began.

"Barty, take off your shields and amulets. All of them."

As I said, this was incredibly rude. But he would not tell a soul.

After a couple of minutes, Barty had taken off all of his defenses and was looking at me with dog-like devotion. Entering an unguarded mind took no effort. Unlike Tom, I had lingering doubts about his loyalty. For naught. He was willing to do anything: kill himself, kill his parents... His fanaticism was bizarre and inexplicable. I was searching for a reason... He loved the Dark Lord?! I wanted to cruciate him! Was he gay? Apparently not... He saw himself as my copy. Misunderstood, a fighter against the unfair system. He was in awe of me, wanted to kill his father just like I did. A hopeless lunatic, but I could use him.

"Barty, can you bring a squad of Death Eaters into your manor? Or kidnap your mother and bring her to me?"

Since Crouch Sr. refused bribes, we had to move on to physical liquidation or blackmail. "Kidnapping" Barty wasn't an option- father and son were not close.

"No, my Lord. Father is a skilled wizard with subordinates at the DMLE. The manor is warded and defended by several guards. Mother never leaves home. But I can certainly kill her before I am captured or killed. I wish I could manage my father..."

He said it with absolute sincerity and eagerness. Tom would have approved... I didn't. Barty was an uncontrollable maniac. I wouldn't be surprised if he told the victims his life story before killing them. And if I suddenly stopped resembling his ideal Voldemort... No, he would not betray me, but try to put me back on the "right path" by killing those he thought were a bad influence. This had to be nipped in the bud. But I still needed him...

"Killing your mother will not change your father's politics, only make him hate us even more. But just in case, write a confidential will leaving everything to me."

"My Lord, allow me to give you everything right now..."

"No need. But in case of your death, those muggle lovers must get nothing! Will you be able to smuggle some dark artifacts into your manor? Or create them there? Soon you will get visited by a dark artifact search committee with international witnesses. If they find any, it will cause a scandal, and, at a bare minimum, remove Crouch Sr. from his post for the duration of the investigation."

"No, my Lord. Sneaking anything into the house is not possible. Neither is performing a dark ritual. The manor is filled with DMLE wizards. Their loyalty is unquestionable."

"Your father spends all his time at work?"

"Almost."

"And mother?"

"Takes care of the house. Supervises the elves. Crafts things..."

"Using muggle methods, write down every Dark spell you know on parchments in your house. Ask the others for spells you don't know and write them down as well. Hide the parchments so they can be found with a bit of effort. Additionally, find several muggle women. Seduce or rent them without using magic and bring them to the manor. I don't think the security will give a damn about your sex life. Do not kill them. We will warn you before the committee's arrival. Use their blood to draw runes in your father's bedroom, purportedly for a banned ritual. Choose a believable one with a harsh punishment. But don't charge the runes, leave them as a simple drawing. No deaths or torture means no magic emission: the security won't feel anything, and the committee will get a surprise. Drug the women to prevent pain. And make sure to get out before you get caught. And don't forget about the house elves, they may get in your way. I understand that this will lead to you losing your cover, but this is an acceptable price. Your father must be removed from his position."

"How am I going to draw runes and quietly overpower the muggles without magic?"

"Drug them with muggle sleeping draught. Draw runes by hand, with a dagger and a jar of blood. This is all. Put your shields back up and go."

Left alone, I read reports until the elder Lestrange entered the room.

"My Lord, I introduced Nott and Rosier to Neville. Your servants are acting very strangely: Crouch dug into Magical Law and Dark Ritual books, Bellatrix ran off somewhere with our family lawyer after interrogating me about fairy tales."

"They are following my orders."

"Regarding your orders. We still haven't found your snake. And the teachers... You are the best, my Lord. The best Dark wizard, the best duelist. The best legiliment and occlument. Potion master and ritualist. There is nothing to teach you. Although Malfoy volunteered to teach you fencing, law and finance."

Unfortunately, Dumbledore was better. As for Lucius' offer... He was probably sucking up to me, trying to spend more time with the Lord to improve his standing. It was useless to me. We already had Lucius as the law and finance expert. Or I could always find another. And I was not going to fight Dumbledore with a sword.

"I have no interest in that. But I would like to know more about other fields. For instance, Light magic. And how to to block house elf apparition."

"My Lord, house elves are insignificant. Their reserve is not big enough for a single serious battle spell. They are simple, harmless magical parasites. And killing with Light magic... it is akin to reaching into your left pocket with right hand. Besides, your channels get accustomed to a certain type of magic..."

I already knew all that. Same as with physical body, developing in one direction sacrificed the other: you were either a good runner, swimmer or weightlifter. Or average all around. I was as strong in Dark magic as I was weak in Light. But, one tiny "but": how was I affected by the Samhain events? Performing those rituals showed I had Riddle's body and energy field. But it did not necessarily mean I had his magic potential. Or soul.

"Nonetheless, I will try. I also want to learn more about artifact creation."

Actually, I wanted to understand what happened to my horcruxes. And the original objects. The Founders' artifacts were more than frivolous toys.

"My Lord, why do you need that? We are rich and can get you anything you desire."

Edward was one of the very few to whom Tom explained his actions. At least sometimes.

"Griffyndor had a sword. Ravenclaw had a diadem. I want to create my own artifact worthy of my greatness."

I think I gave the best answer. Now my interest in legends was understandable: I wanted to outdo everyone.

"Fleamont Potter, late James' grandfather, is considered the best artificer of our time. We won't be able to reach his library: James likely left everything to Dumbledore. But Fleamont was not the only one. I will introduce you to artificers from the families loyal to us."

Well, we might be able to get to the Potter inheritance after all... Through Harry Potter... But then Albus will know... Why was everything so difficult? Why didn't they keep their valuables at home?

"I have more orders for you. I need a new wand."

"Your wand was damaged in battle? Unfortunately, I am not an expert. There are a couple of wand makers among the Death Eaters, but they are far from Gregorivich's and Ollivander's mastery. Gregorovich refuses to work with us... After that incident... And Ollivander, though not openly opposing us, is on the enemy side and is guarded by the Ministry and the Order."

"Prepare a plan for his capture. Ollivander himself, his wands, tools, ingredients. I am sure he will live and work just fine in your dungeons. And happily make me a new wand after a couple Crucios."

"If I may ask, under what circumstences did your wand get damaged?"

"It is not damaged. It became less obedient after Potter's death. No doubt, this was Dumbledore's cunning plan to leave me wandless during battle. But he failed to arrive in time to defend his minions."

Logical? I guess so. Though I didn't know of any way to affect someone's wand while it was still in their hand... And doubt it was at all possible.

"But don't spread it around," I said, "Rumors about Dumbledore's power would undermine the morale. We will not use Death Eater wand makers: no need to show vulnerability. And Ollivander will keep silent."

"You should take the Longbottoms' wands, then. I'll find wands from our raid trophies for the liches. Your efficiency is more important than theirs, milord."

Damn, Lily will also need a new wand, or get found out... A trophy one for her as well.

"Why should I take theirs instead of choosing one from your storage?"

"I am not sure exactly, but it is said that the wand either chooses you or you win it in a fight. Killing the owner is not necessary. I don't know the details."

"You know wand lore?"

"Not about their creation. Not about how they work. Only advice on how to use them."

Riddle did not know that... I really had to broaden my horizons outside Dark magic.

"Minky!" called Edward, "Bring the Dark Lord the Longbottoms' wands."

I became the owner of two more wands. Twirled them between my fingers. Riddle's wand felt ideal in his memories. In my hands, eight out of ten. These two felt different: Frank's a nine, Alice's about a six. Strange, both were won in battle... Alice's was probably made with incompatible ingredients. I decided to use Frank's and keep the other two as backup.

"My friend, I need information on ancient artifacts, to know where to aim. And the basics of wand lore."

"You can read about wands in a brochure called "Magic for Beginners," my Lord. Not many people read it because of its banality."

"I will pick it up at the library. Tell me about legendary artifacts."

"My Lord, most are fairy tales I read to my kids, and even they didn't believe them: the indestructible golem, omniscient Merlin's pants, the unstoppable Excalibur and so on... The pinnacle of this idiocy is probably the Necronomicon: a book that contains all dark spells in existence and eats souls. The only thing that can eat a soul is a dementor! Souls don't work like blood where you can use other people's, albeit with less effectiveness than your own."

"Dark magic allegedly harms your own soul."

"Regular use of Dark magic, like any other type, makes you accustomed to it. But it is nothing more than an instrument! Ritual sacrifice channels life force, magic reserves or broken down core of any living being instead of your own energy. Rare kooks even sacrifice their own body parts. But no ritual affects the soul!

Then there are spells that cause physical harm and spells that harm the energy field, the core, the channels. Again, never the soul. Of course, prolonged use of Dark magic affects the psyche and makes the practitioner less proficient at other magic, but it is easily compensated by the mind arts and a large reserve. If it weren't the case, I would have gone mad decades ago! That's why Dark magic is the realm of purebloods. Children or weak wizards would die trying!"

"If that is true, why does Dumbledore not use Dark magic?"

"How should I know?" Edward scoffed, "Maybe it is against his moral principles, maybe he got burned and is now twice weary."

Everything was hardly so simple. The elder Lestrange may be stable, but Bellatrix? Riddle? My Cruciatus urges? I should check other sources.

The Lestranges had a mountain of books on mythology. I suspended all of them in the air and began flipping the pages. I planned to read through them during sleep, however long that would take...

"This is a lot of information," I said, "Give me a summary of the most legendary artifacts, including the Founders'."

"Most of the Founders' artifacts are lost: Slytherin's amulet, Ravenclaw's diadem, Hufflepuff's cup. Dumbledore has the sword of Gryffindor at Hogwarts. But they all definitely existed."

He was wrong about the first part. Voldemort did a phenomenal job tracking them down and turned three into horcruxes. How could I get the diadem from Hogwarts?

"Another famous legend describes the Deathstick or the Elder Wand. Its existence has never been confirmed, but there are many mentions of special, powerful wands belonging to witches and wizards who left a bloody footprint in history. Most were killed for their wand. Possibly just coincidences or examples of that one ritual which makes the wand stronger at the cost of it burning out a few days later."

It sounded ludicrous. But Tom knew his history, and there had definitely been wizards with exceedingly powerful wands. Tom thought they were either coincidences or horcrux-wands that were dangerous for anyone except their owners, so he never pursued them. But a "Deathstick" was worth looking into.

"Compile me a list of the most powerful witches and wizards of the last two centuries. A wand like that sounds useful"

"Yes, my Lord."

"Are there any stories of special armor? Potions of limitless mana? Or something along those lines?"

"Only idiots like the Lovegoods would know."

"What about them?"

"Apparently being a member of the society for the search of the Deathly Hallows was not enough for Lovegood, so he created a society for the search of Crumple-Horned Snorkacks. He and his wife are the only members."

"What was that about the Deathly Hallows?"

"It has more members. They believe that in addition to the elder wand there is an indestructible invisibility cloak and a resurrection stone..."

"Resurrection stone? An army of inferi is more noticeable than a powerful wand. How big would an energy accumulator have to be to raise an army? House-sized?"

"According to the legend, the stone raises spirits. Its size... should be small. It works without sacrifices or rituals: just turn the stone three times."

Total rubbish. Tom knew a lot about necromancy. A body couldn't be raised this way. And raising a pure spirit... it was like telling about a perpetual motion machine to a muggle physicist.

"And what do these members look like?" I asked, annoyed. "Do they walk around naked with garden gnome nests on their heads?"

"No, all but the Lovegoods act relatively normal, only wear amulets with this symbol. It is supposed to be on every Hallow," Lestrange drew a circle, a stick and a triangle in the air and combined them. "And the most absurd part is that they are not just searching for three powerful artifacts. They believe that combining them grants power over death itself!"

I was staring at the symbol. I have seen it before. On my horcrux. The Gaunt family ring. Had someone added the stone to a ring? If the ring horcrux truly was an artifact of unprecedented power... It should be undamaged, like the dairy... All I wanted was to drop everything and run to the Gaunt shack, crucioing everyone who dare get in my way.

But secrecy was our everything. Bless Riddle and his instincts: despite my inner turmoil, I kept turning the pages as if nothing happened. Once I finished, I thanked Edward, walked out and called on Rodolphus.

"Rodolphus, I need isolating containers. This instance. And keep quiet about it."

I had to get all my ex-horcruxes. At least the available ones. All of this was probably just an incredible coincidence. But I still had to check. Starting with the ring. If it was true... An army of inferi! Call on Merlin and learn his secrets! So many wizards took their secrets to their grave. For instance, that curse Alice Longbottom cast on me... Tom made horcruxes to cheat death... Did he mutilate his soul in vain? Should have searched for antiques instead? The stone was practically in my pocket. The wand... won't stay hidden for long... The cloak? Start with interrogating famous artificers. But for now, the Gaunt ring!


	8. The Dark Lord's Greatest Disappointment

I arrived to Little Haggleton. The sleepy muggle village looked exactly as I remembered, but it was not my destination. I took the only road towards an ominous-looking house that sat atop the second hill.

In defiance of the promises of power hurrying me on, I did not apparate straight to the Gaunt house. What if someone followed me? Or everything had been reduced to ashes like Lucius' storage room? Except in this case they would be cursed ashes, if the explosion spread the powerful curse Tom put on the ring. If I overestimated myself and stumbled into my own curse... Talk about a humiliating death! The outskirts posed no danger: the DMLE could not have missed an entire village dying from a withering curse. I proceeded forward slowly, scanning the ambient magic with every few steps. Not detecting anything unusual, I decided it was safe to enter.

The Gaunt house... It was an old, half-ruined shack. If it changed for the worse in the last 40 years, it wasn't noticeable. No magic source. An ordinary hovel built on ordinary land. Moreover, I could see no magic disturbances. Lucius' vault had extensive damage - maybe I should come closer? After erecting a ward against magic detection over the shack and applying additional shields and masking charms to myself, I walked inside.

The interior was the exact opposite of pride and nobility expected of Slytherin's last descendants. Three dirty, tiny rooms, one of which served as both kitchen and living room... Just as it was in my memory of meeting "Uncle Morfin."

How was it at all possible for wizards to be so poor and dirty? Sure, permanently transfiguring a house was the realm of select few masters, and expansion charms were above the average level, but what was stopping them from fixing these ruins with a simple Reparo? Why live in poverty? Buy one decent suit and duplicate it, buy a bit of good food and multiply the volume, or multiply coal and sell it to muggles! And that's not even mentioning "confiscating the surplus." The DMLE had a subdivision dealing with fans of getting rich at muggles' expense. But no one would look to closely if you did it occasionally, little bit, without endangering the Statute: discreetly confound and obliviate, no blowing up banks with explosive curses while wearing a formal robe. There was no need to steal at all - any Hogwarts fifth year could copy paper money! Just don't get too greedy! Did the Gaunts simply not care how they lived?!

I walked into the largest room and got lost in memories of the long past summer of 1943...

All and all, I did a good job framing half-mad Morfin for the murder of my so-called relatives. Was he still alive in Azkaban? This was a loose end worth tying off. Surely my servants will manage. Any more traces? Riddle's memory was silent, but I will think it over later - maybe I missed something else.

Back in the present, the magic that washed over me felt familiarly tainted and twisted. Strange, why were the disturbances contained within the walls?

The room was littered with remainders of concealment charms and pieces of the jewelry box. In magical vision, the ring itself looked similar to the diary and was just as miraculously unharmed by the surrounding chaos. The stone... didn't feel like anything. Not that it was any indication: if the Hallows could be sensed with magic, they would have been collected ages ago.

I resisted the compulsion to put on the ring and check whether it can raise an army of undead, remembering massive effort I put into cursing it with the Kiss of Death. The ring could kill even Dumbledore, in a world where he was careless enough to put it on. How unfortunate that the curse's difficulty made it unusable in battle. It took even me half an hour of chanting and orchestra-like wand waving.

Approaching the ring, I began testing it for the charms and curses I had placed on it. Everything was gone. But I refused to believe it. Tom hid his "special gift" well. One more charm chain and, who would have guessed, the Kiss of Death was still in place. This curse worked by convincing the subject's energy field that it was dead, so irreversible energy damage was followed by quickly spreading gangrene.

I never understood how anyone enjoyed curse breaking over their creation. This will take a while... Magical sight showed twists that would make the Gordian Knot cry with envy. I wished I could bring in a team of curse breakers, but their disappearance would be too high profile...

My charms pulled some threads and cut others. More than anything, the curse resembled an onion weaved from multicolored thread. Every layer was followed by a more complicated one, for the total of 84 times! I finished two thirds in three hours before feeling the imminent approach of fatigue. But this was not a curse that one could crack a little bit, take a nap and come back to finish it later: left damaged but not broken, it kept regenerating.

Without stopping, I transfigured a chair with my free hand and sat down. One more hour... fatigue continued to accumulate and I started to sweat... Another thirty minutes later I felt sore like I ran a marathon and could physically sense my magic channels as if I grew new blood vessels.

On one hand, it was stupid to come here before fully recovering. On the other, it was stupid to waste a single minute when a possible absolute weapon was within reach. And so, just when I was seriously considering stopping this self-torture and beginning from scratch later, the last layer finally came off.

I should sit and rest. And think. Now the ring must be harmless. After all, nothing happened to me when I touched the diary. Yet I still felt apprehensive about putting it on: what if I missed something? The optimal solution would be to test it on someone disposable, but who? Call a Death Eater? Wasteful. And what if they tried to run off with the ring? Go find a muggle? And leave the ring unattended? Put up wards first? I lacked the energy for anything decent.

I looked around the shack and transfigured a monkey from dirt. Placed it under the Imperius and ordered to put on the ring. If I missed something, the monkey was toast. But no: it touched the ring, put it on and started playing with the stone. Everything seemed in order, so I dispelled the monkey and dared to try it on myself.

And now, the important question: what to do? In principle, a soul should be similar to a ghost, incapable of using magic. Probably. But what if Merlin got angry at being summoned and killed me? Once again I wished I had a disposable test subject... But what if the subject teamed up with Merlin and killed me? I wisely decided to start with someone other than Merlin. Someone I could easily handle.

I called on Voldemort's father.

Before me appeared a semi-transparent, ghost-like man, similar to me in appearance.

"You murdered me, you little bastard! You murdered my family! I hope you die in agony and..."

I cast a sound-muffling charm. Nothing. He continued to lament his fate and insult me. A shield against mental intrusions. His words were still audible. A Silencio. "Father" droned on.

"Incarcerous."

The ropes passed through him. I placed blades into his pseudobody. It was as if they passed through a hologram. Even in his throat, they did not affect his talking. I tried a ghost banishing spell. No effect.

I grew tired of it. Cursing inwardly, I cut my left palm and aimed it at "father."

"Consciuno Sanguinem Garide," I uttered the deadliest blood banishing spell I knew.

My blood simply went through the unfazed ghost.

What about the Spirit Leash? No effect.

"Expecto Patronum."

I followed Riddle's memories, imagining myself killing Dumbledore and ruling Britain. Riddle's Partonus was a snake. Mine... Something vaguely resembling a snake. I better look into it later because if, Merlin forbid, the Dark Lord's Patronus turned out to be a flobberworm...

A Patronus could easily drive away a Dementor, with some effort- a Banshee. But it aimlessly floated around, unable to see the ghost.

Tom Riddle Snr. had not once tried to attack me, just complained and cursed, not paying any attention to the blades I held in his head with my will. Maybe it was a simple Boggart? No, the blood banishing spell would have destroyed him. But maybe?! What was that specialized Boggart spell...

"Riddikulus!"

The clown clothes I planned to put on the ghost fell through him. Why was I so nervous anyway? He was not attacking me, and his words did not hurt.

"Imperio!" I tried again, "Shut up!"

Zero effect.

"Simply shut up!"

Nothing.

"Disappear!"

He did not. I pushed my will into the stone and ordered him to be silent. No effect. I ordered him to disappear. It worked! At the very least I now knew how to summon and banish souls. And Merlin should have no reason to hate me, right?

I turned the ring and called upon Merlin's spirit. I will soon know his secrets! Nothing happened... Was he too strong a wizard? Lived too far in the past?

I tried to summon Slytherin and find out the location of his family source, how he hatched a Basilisk, whether he had any stashes... Nothing. The other Founders. No. Maybe they were too benign? Herpo the Foul, creator of the first horcrux and basilisk? No. Morgan le Fay, Merlin's enemy? No. Emeric the Evil, one of the alleged owners of the Elder Wand? No.

Maybe it was limited to the recently dead? I tried summoning several Death Eaters who died last year. Nothing. Maybe the the ring got depleted? Needed time to recharge?

I tried calling on acquaintances from my previous life. Also nothing... Not surprising, summoning spirits from another timeline would be a whole new level of preposterous.

What else? Was it only possible to summon one's father? Blood relatives? Very odd. But a single case was not enough. I needed statistics...

I continued summoning more spirits. The only ones that appeared had all been killed by Riddle. They insulted me and threatened vengeance. I ceased using spells and tried speaking with them. Reasoning. Lying. Appealing to emotion. They completely ignored my words. I sent them back. Summoning a single spirit repeatedly made no difference. Luckily the stone did not use any of my energy.

I summoned my post-Hogwarts divination teacher. While he was insulting me, I tried to mold him into a phantom, a type of undead created from ghosts. Another failure. I took off the ring, and he disappeared.

James Potter. Same insults and promises of retribution. The Longbottoms. Same.

I decided to try Merope Gaunt.

"You disappointed me, son. This is not the life I wanted for you. Think about what you have done. Repent. It is not too late to surrender Dumbledore and redeem yourself..."

Well, at least someone didn't insult me. Go away.

I put the stone into a screened container. Erased the magical traces of my actions. Vanished blood from the floor.

The stone's purpose remained unclear. Souls could not be controlled, only summoned. Maybe it simplified the process of raising inferi? In my current state, getting into a fight in the pursuit of fresh bodies was risky. Raise them at a cemetery? If it worked, a mass raising would attract the entire Auror force, too much to face with the forces of a single cemetery. But wait... Why did I need to acquire captives? I already had them!

I finished restoring the shack to its previous condition and apparated to the Lestranges.

"Rodolphus, how many prisoners do you have?"

"Twenty muggles and three wizards, including Black."

"Move everyone but Black into the dungeon chamber number four. Prepare half of them for ritual raising. Call me once you are finished and wait outside."

I kept pondering the stone...

Soon my prisoners were ready. I entered the room and raised privacy wards. Rodolphus patiently stood outside the door.

Some of the prisoners were chained to the floor. Some were inside runic circles. Some conscious, some not. I killed one muggle and immediately summoned his soul. He began insulting me, and I talked back. Legilimency of the conscious prisoners showed they did not see him. Illusion? Hallucination? Something only I could see and hear, impossible to interact even using my own body...

I had little remaining energy, but the killing curse was not necessary. I killed them with Secos, heart attacks, a knife... Raising zombies and inferi with my own power worked as it always had. The ring had absolutely no effect on the ritual. Touching the bodies with the stone did nothing. Summoned souls refused to interact with their freshly separated bodies when I tried to stuff them back in with telekinesis.

Surely the stone can't be useless? Perhaps it was a matter of quantity? Required more deaths? But I already ran out... where to get more material? Rosier? I put the ring back into the isolating container and walked out.

"Rodolphus! There are a dozen zombies and an inferus. Find some use for them. If you need me, I'll be at Rosier's"

From the apparition platform, I went straight to Rosier's camp: a system of catacombs that housed prisoners awaiting their turn to become undead.

I was greeted by the youngest Rosier.

"My Lord, to what do I owe the honor of your unexpected visit? We currently have nine wizards and nearly four hundred muggles who will soon serve our cause..."

"Deliver all to the large dungeon hall. And make sure they are immobilized. I wish to spend some time alone with them."

"Certainly, my Lord."

Pity that human sacrifice could not refill magic reserves - every individual had his own type of energy, and using someone else's was similar to transfusing a wrong blood type. The energy released from sacrifice must be used then and there, without channeling it through the caster.

Everything was ready. I stood alone among hundreds of bound bodies. How to kill so many with little magic? Gas. Magic substances may not be possible to conjure, but muggle sarin... I would be protected by shields, just like everyone outside this hall.

Watching hundreds of people die from gas poisoning was unappetizing. Riddle might have laughed, but for me it was the price of power.

I tried funneling the death energy into the stone. I tried summoning souls, filling them with surplus of energy churning around me.

Zombie. No. Inferus. No. Skeleton. No. Phantom. No. Manipulations too delicate? I gathered a couple dozen bodies into a pile. Flesh golem? Again no...

I wasted an insane amount of material without raising a single barely moving zombie! Did the stone refuse to obey me or not work at all? How to test this?

I summoned Derek Wright through his Dark Mark. A rather pathetic half-blood. Fervently loyal but absolutely useless: bankrupt, a thimbleful of magical power.

"Derek, you are my faithful servant, are you not?"

"Of course, my Lord."

"Take off all of your shields and amulets."

He did, revealing sincere, limpid loyalty.

"Are you willing to obey any order?"

"Yes, my Lord."

It was true.

"How would you like to assist me in my research by exploring the afterlife?"

"Anything you wish, my Lord."

"Avada Kedavra!"

I turned the stone immediately, before he had a chance to change his mind. To think of it, what did wizards know about the afterlife? Nothing. Dementors demonstrated the existence of souls, ghosts suggested something exists beyond the physical death. But what?

The Stone brought my servant's spirit before me. He did not insult me.

"Are you dead, Derek?"

"Yes."

"What is it like, being dead? What have you seen so far?"

"I can't say."

"Can't or won't?"

"I can't say."

"What do you feel? Where are you?"

"I can't say."

Bummer. Tom asked the Hogwarts ghosts, and their answers had been the same. Whether they were refusing, truly unable to say or mocking the living, the result was equally useless.

"Can you be of any use to me?"

"No."

I let him go and returned the ring to its container.

So, what have we learned? Hypothesis number one. A mental artifact of tremendous power, able to enter my subconscious undetected, showed me what I expected to see. Hypothesis number two. It truly was the Resurrection Stone. Those were real souls. The Stone could summon and banish but not control them. They said what they wanted but were unable to attack. Strangers did not answer the call- they had no interest in speaking to me. My victims came to spout insults, as a kind of vengeance. Loved ones would have probably come to support me, but Lord Voldemort had none.

Would Bellatrix answer my call if she died? What would she do? I wasn't going to test that...

The only good news was that even these "ghosts" could not tell me apart from the previous Voldemort. This stone was utterly useless.

What was the goal in creating this artifact? It could not create an army or assist in necromancy. The only possible use was asking an unexpectedly passed relative where he hid the money. Surely many people went insane listening to their dead parents or lovers... Kill someone's family, put the subject in an isolated cell with the Stone, and you got yourself a ready-made madman.

I sighed. A lightning-fast victory via a giant army of undead was not going to happen. The stone was useless, but the former ring horcrux still needed to be tested along with the diary. They did not protect me from death anymore, so hiding them was not as important. I decided to carry them with me until I understood what happened. I had the diary and the ring. Bellatrix would soon bring me the cup. And the locket and the diadem were well protected.

Since my energy was once again depleted, I went home. I had a lot to learn.


	9. Continuing Education

I was dreaming. This time, I was examining the original Tom Riddle's personality. Here I am at the orphanage. Getting bullied by older children. Bullying the younger ones. Stealing food. Trembling during the bombings... Riddle's childhood was far from happy. Even at Hogwarts, at least in the beginning, he was scorned for his dubious background and old clothes.

Riddle's childhood may not have been ideal, but he was not the only orphan in the world. He had a real chance at success after Hogwarts: many expected him to achieve a high post the Ministry, perhaps even become the Minister of Magic. How did he end up an infamous Dark Lord?

Tom had always been sly and cruel, but with the creation of horcruxes he grew irrational. Why capture random wizards and torture them into insanity? What was the goal? I could understand practicing the Cruciatus and checking the time it took to induce insanity. But he did it multiple times without any goal at all. Revenge for suffering at the orphanage? Understandable, but what was the point in punishing random people? Find and torture the ones who wronged you! Need information from muggles? Legilimency or the Imperius.

Some of Tom's actions could be explained with sadism, pride or anger, but other defied reason. And as years went by, the latter became more and more frequent. However I tried to reason, everything pointed to one conclusion: horcruxes.

It was incredibly stupid to experiment on your own soul. Tom could have convinced another wizard to create several horcruxes and observed the results. Instead, he asked Slughorn about the effects of multiple horcruxes. Slughorn, who was not a Dark magic specialist, had no personal experience in the matter... And got a response that murder was bad and multiple murders was extra bad. And that it was banned magic. This could be interpreted in a myriad of ways. What Tom got out of it was senile pencil-pushers banned powerful magic to easier control the population and banned killing to protect cowards and taxpayers. But Tom was not like those sheep and would be the first to dare!

But the world was already full of violence, crime, war... If you were going to kill anyway, why not pursue immortality while you are at it? No one had the power or knowledge? Very unlikely... A single murder - and you have a horcrux. Soon, an immortal army or an Auror force. Why has no one done it? Because you cut off a piece of your own soul, not someone else's! Put each piece at risk of permanent destruction with destruction of its vessel!

Lord Voldemort loved to brag that he was more than human. Blinded by pride, he never noticed becoming less: he made most of his soul mortal. Slughorn should have said that horcruxes are total rubbish, that even maniacs don't bother with them because everyone who has ever made a horcrux in a thousand years since its invention died with an incomplete soul. And several horcruxes... there hasn't yet been an idiot to experiment on himself. But go ahead Tom, you try it, and we will observe what happens. And if one divides the soul in half, ten will leave you with a whopping 1/1024 of your original soul. Only a drunk troll could come up something as asinine as cutting off pieces of yourself to become stronger... Maybe you should try cutting off your finger and leaving it under your bed to be reborn from it if you get hit with the killing curse? And to increase your chances of rebirth, cut off more fingers?

Tom never noticed changes in his rationality. He disregarded the loss of interest in sex, and the inability to have children has never been an issue. The only thing he noticed was his inability to connect to a magical source. But instead of panicking or even conducting a brief self-diagnostic, he merely stopped pursuing Bellatrix - he originally wanted to connect to the Black source through marriage. Despite the Blacks' obsession with blood purity, they would have made an exception for a powerful half-blood Slytherin heir.

I could clearly see it from the outside, unbiased perspective: every new horcrux made Tom more aggressive and less inclined to verbal sparring. More torture, less politics. Power and money to the purebloods? The same ones who already comprised the Wizengamot and owned the majority of land and businesses? Death to the mudbloods? How many have you seen that weren't in the lowest servant positions? Muggle-lovers? Idiots like the Weasleys had already punished themselves with poverty.

Your party lost an election? Try again, with better preparation. Takes too long? The current conflict has been brewing for eleven years! By now, many people on both sides have stopped caring about their original goals. Too much blood had been spilled, making a truce impossible.

It wasn't that hard to understand something was wrong! Even without self-psychoanalysis, every subsequent horcrux ritual took more and more effort. Back in Hogwarts was understandable, but later Tom had plenty of time to find a wizard experienced with horcruxes and interrogate him. I should do that, actually.

Tom saw horcruxes as life-saving anchors. I was far more critical. If only there was a way to immortality by sacrificing someone else's soul... Besides, I could not afford to sacrifice my mind. How would I rule a country if I could not even control myself? So this was not my way.

And that was fine. The Lestranges were already drawing beautiful runes in the ritual chamber, Rookwood would soon bring me new inventions, and I will find my own. And my previous life? No point in reminiscing. The opportunities here were immeasurably more lucrative, and I would use them for all they are worth.

The history lesson was over, time to get up.

"Master, Gaby prepared you housekeeping books and will tell you about elf magic."

What can I say? I needed a break from difficult tasks.

"I am listening, Gaby."

If someone visited my house, they would witness a surreal picture: the Dark Lord diligently reading books for housewives and getting coached by a house elf.

Lord Voldemort never spared household charms a glance. He should have. Take, for example, Boilio - a spell that boils water, used for cooking and heating baths. But what would it do to a human body which consists mostly of water? I'd wager on death rivaling the Blood Magic boiling curse, only with less energy cost. Or the potato-peeling charm. Used on a human, would it peel off the skin? Would the packaging charm suffocate the subject with clothes? There were so many interesting charms!

Obviously, household spells were less lethal than battle spells, easier to shield from and heal. But they were more than enough for muggles. Most importantly, they barely used any energy, even non-verbally and wandlessly. And I was sure if I poured enough energy into the toilet-unclogging spell, it would blow the the victim up from the inside like a swallowed Reducto!

Only few powerful wizards could afford to walk around with shields against every imaginable threat. An average Auror responded to calls covered in shields against Dark magic and other things expected in the time of war, to survive until the arrival of backup in case of a Death Eater attack. My surprises would take him out.

They would be useless in a serious battle but ideal for "walkabouts" and simple operations. If the DMLE detected Avadas, Fiendfyre, Antipatronus and Liquified Flesh, how would they respond? It's You-Know-Who! Send all the Aurors! And Moody! And call Dumbledore!

But a trash-incinerating spell? At best, they would send some intern to scold the kids playing with fire. Or simply send a warning letter to the nearest muggleborn.

An ability to act incognito was very handy. I could blame this new style on... Lily. More precisely, on Elena Ivanova. Let them search all they want for a witch who lived under the Fidelius... The Dark Lord's new servant with a unique brand of sadism. Lily would be in for a surprise when she becomes a dangerous criminal immediately greeted with Avadas. I could even start convincing her I am not so bad in comparison. Her fear was good, but lacking a motive to act against me would be better.

Although I had no plans to send her into battle, she needed to know how to defend herself. And to get seen in a couple of operations. Teaching her to fight properly would take years of effort, and she didn't have the character to throw killing curses left and right. But the new "psycho housewife" style would give her a chance. If I'm not ready for battle and there is a dish-scrubbing spell flying at me, what do I do? In such cases, the victor was decided by raw power.

On the other hand, house elf magic was a bust... I had such high hopes for apparating through wards... For example, Hogwarts. But their magic was inaccessible to humans - astral structures too alien. All I got was wards against house elf apparition. I will order Rookwood to find or develop an effective way to kill the long-eared menaces. A couple hundred of them posed a danger even to me.

What do you do once you learned many new spells? Test them! I apparated to the Lestranges.

"Rabastan, I need prisoners."

"You already killed all we had, my Lord. But I can find more. I will immediately check with the other Death Eaters and bring their prisoners here!"

"I will wait for you in the potion warehouse. And Rabastan, on our next meeting I will introduce a woman who will look like the muggle whose hair you brought me. Absolutely no one -not even your family- can know. It is her real appearance, and you have never seen her before, do you understand?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"Go. I will be at the potion warehouse. Oh, and you will probably not find any prisoners at Rosier's."

I began looking through potions. I'll take the liquid luck... I would need it if I ran into Albus! And this. And this...

Rabastan soon interrupted.

"Everything is ready, my Lord."

"Rabastan, on our next meeting, don't forget to raise the question of prisoners. England is a developed country, and continuously increasing numbers of missing people are bound to be noticed. We could organize flash raids into poor parts of Africa. And put local muggle officials under the Imperius to write off the disappearances as war casualties."

I entered a dungeon room full of immobilized people. Riddle would have gloated. I merely wanted to test my new charms so they wouldn't unexpectedly fail in a real battle. I was not like him.

Let's begin the practice. Conjured water followed by a lightning rod testing spell. The subject died. A wood-chopping spell. Multiple avulsion wounds, not immediately fatal. What if I used a dish-scrubbing spell on the intestines?

One hour later:

"Rabastan, I need more prisoners!"

* * *

 **Charles Nott**

Charles was lost in thought, absently watching flames dance in his fireplace. He joined the Death Eaters decades ago, among the very first, but the organization fell short of his expectations. Unfortunately, the only way out was in a casket, and losing the war meant Azkaban. Together forever indeed...

But lately everything felt inexplicably... off. The Dark Lord hadn't called a meeting to boast of his victories over the Potters and the Longbottoms... He burned everything down rather than use the Killing Curse and raise liches... Spared Neville...Nott was out of favor, yet the Lord spoke to him in person without once mentioning torturing muggles and had not rewarded him with the usual preventive Crucio... Of course, he has long given up on trying to find logic in the Dark Lord's actions, but the nagging sense of wrongness would not let up...

The fireplace suddenly changed colors, revealing Rabastan Lestrange's head.

"Nott! I need prisoners! We are all out!"

"I don't have any... Ask Mulciber."

"He is all out too! I took his an hour ago, and they are already dead!"

"Rosier?"

"The Dark Lord was there yesterday. All gone. He even killed one of the guards. Any idea who may have some? Avery? Crabbe?"

"Rosier had over a hundred..."

"Four hundred. And by the way, we wanted to tell you during the meeting, but the Lord is torturing and killing prisoners in our dungeons, so who knows when that will happen. Talk to Malfoy. Put your heads together to come up with a way to get custody of Neville and access his inheritance. And the best way to kill his grandmother. Oh, and can you spare some unregistered wands? None of ours match the liches..."

"What liches? We haven't had any raids or strong wizarding bodies in a long time!"

"James Potter and the Longbottoms. The Lord Avada'ed them and dragged them to us."

"My house elf will bring you the wands. And prisoners... Jugson should have a couple."

Lestrange disappeared. And Charles was thinking again. Murder the parents, turn them into liches, kidnap their child to acquire the family valuables? And do it all in one Samhain night, when the veil between the the dead and living was at its thinnest? The Dark Lord always loved symbolism... And postponing the meeting because he was busy torturing and killing muggles? No, the Dark Lord hasn't changed one bit.

* * *

Wonderful, a new batch. Rust-removing spell used on a human removed the scalp... Crack-plugging spell for doors and windows sealed the airways and all the other orifices...

Maybe I should stun the subjects instead of silencing the screaming? But I ran out of prisoners... Perhaps next time.

Bella still has not returned with my cup. I also would rather not conduct a full meeting while there was still a possibility of a magical snake emitting who knows what slithering around the manor. So I went to Lily.

"Put on your uniform, Elena," I said entering her mind, "You need fresh air. And a new wand."

She stiffened with anxiety as I covered her with shields and masking charms. Not as strong as mine, but she will live. Though there must be a way to tie them to her own energy and allow her to stray away from me without losing all defenses...

"My Lord, where are we going?" she asked, putting on the mask.

"We are going to give you your first taste of battle. And go for a nice walk."

This time she knew better than ask questions about killing. But she was still not ready for it.

We apparated to Knockturn Alley and looked for the darkest, nastiest corner. Rock bottom of the magical world. A wizard was selling something to a bargaining buyer.

"Elena, these are your targets."

"You want me to kill them?"

"No. Stun them. Pour your best into the spell to take them both out at once and avoid drawing attention. Then take their wands."

Her thoughts showed she never expected such mercy from the Dark Lord.

"Stupefy!"

Lily's spell hit both. Their shields lit up but cracked like eggshells under a hammer. The targets dropped unconscious.

Lily had plenty of practice with this spell at Hogwarts. Now it flew faster, glowed brighter. Never before could she break through a simple Protego with a single hit...

"Feel the difference, Elena?"

She noticed all magic becoming easier after the ritual but convinced herself it was a side effect of stress. Right, that would be like a scared muggle outrunning a speeding car. She won't be able to lie to herself for long.

"This spell came out much stronger than usual."

"Think on it. Practice in your basement. Do you remember your magic in the past? Compare the results. But right now, take their wands. We are leaving."

I did not bother with a cover up. This was Knockturn. A brawl was a common sight, there had been no illegal magic- maybe someone stunned an aggressive stray dog. But when the murders will finally be discovered, the Aurors will find Lily's magical signature on the bodies and note the stolen wands. What murders? They were alive when we disapparated, but I had set up for my trusty house elf to cut the stunned targets' throats with a regular knife and hide the bodies. Lily will learn the wizards were killed and their deaths pinned on her. But we left them alive, so how was this my fault? All crimes get pinned on the Death Eaters anyway!

After a series of apparitions we arrived to Privet Drive.

"Recognize your sister's house?"

Now I felt her unadulterated fear.

"You have nothing to fear. They will not be harmed. I saw your concern for your sister in your thoughts - you left on bad terms, James and Sirius insulted her at your wedding... Lily Potter is officially dead, but you may visit them once a month, unseen. I am too busy to kill every muggle I come across, and as long as you are loyal to me these muggles are safe."

Essentially, they were additional hostages. If Lily did anything wrong, I would kill her brother in law. Second strike - baby nephew. Third - sister. Or simply cruciate them. Lily understood the implied threat.

We came back to her house.

"Sit down, Elena. It is time for another legilimency session... Legilimens!" I made a show as if I was not already in her mind.

Last time I searched for ways she could be useful. Today, my concern was Severus Snape. Tom was certain of his loyalty after multiple legilimency sessions. But I was not him and decided to look at Snape through Lily's eyes. He must have a reason to want her alive. Did they go to Hogwarts together?

Here Severus meets her when they are both young kids. Starting Hogwarts. Meeting Potter. Sorting into rival Houses. Interhouse friendship. Severus' awkward advances. Here she tries to help Severus when he is hanging in the air upside down. He calls her a mudblood. Begging for forgiveness, broken friendship...

Severus took it way too seriously. He got undressed, not raped. He could have easily framed it to come out on top: "the four of you are just jealous that my cock is bigger than all of yours put together," or "you are all fags trying to get with me, I'm not interested, go back to fucking each other." Both muggle and magical Scotland lagged behind the rest of the Western world when it came to accepting homosexuality, so all four would all get in trouble with their parents. Then he could organize an interhouse gang to bully the "Gryffindor butt buddies." Instead, he insulted Lily despite her having no part in it. Was it an instinct, to attack the weak?

But I was looking for indications of Snape's loyalty. In his memories, Snape strived for power and influence under the auspices of a strong Master. Snape was a genius with potions and experienced with the Dark Arts, overall good enough to be the only half-blood in the Inner Circle. Killed many, served faithfully, brought Tom the prophecy, earning himself a place among the most trusted. Why did he ask for a specific mudblood? Wanted to fuck the one who denied him in school and get revenge on her husband who bullied him? Tom thought so. It was logical.

But Lily's memories showed a different Snape. Lost, cornered, trying his best to improve himself, getting involved with a bad crowd. Somehow both were equally true.

Obviously, Lily could be mistaken. Snape could have always been a sick bastard or become one and obsess over this particular redhead. Obsess so much that he was not afraid of Voldemort's Cruciatus? I should tell him I killed the girl and watch his reaction.

But what if... He was able to deceive Riddle? No, it was impossible... Snape's occlumency was impressive, but Tom had been in his mind and would have killed him for a slightest hint of betrayal.

I left Lily's head.

"You may use your old wand for now, but only bring the ones you just acquired to all meetings and missions. I am going to temporarily borrow one of them."

I left her and went back to the Lestranges. I had a herbology lesson to attend...

A South American herbologist hired for a a barellfull of money was reading a lecture to Rabastan. I stood invisible beside them, my mind linked with Rabastan's.

"All of this is fascinating, dear Mr. Connors," Rabastan voiced my words, "but I am not interested in tending magical plants. I would like to buy seeds that can be used in battle to absorb water, heat or acid. I also would like to learn what plants can sense a wizard and the charms against them, preferably universal."

"Kids these days! Always in a hurry, always champing at the bit... Some plants sense magic, some sense life force, some sense heartbeat... As for provisionally combat plants, seeds of an Amazon Highlander can absorb massive amounts of water, and Flemish Lichen absorbs acid..."

"We will be buying large amounts of these two types seeds, then. And the herbicide spells?"

"The pattern of charms I will show you is the so-called..."

Rabastan copied, and so did I. This farce was tiring, but The Dark Lord had to remain omnipotent, while the youngest Lestrange could use the tutoring.

Finished with classes, I gathered the male Lestranges in the small parlor.

"Prepare a list of potions for Snape to deliver in two days. And another list of simpler potions. Most importantly, I will be attacking Ollivander's shop. Here is the plan..."

* * *

 **Ollivander's Capture**

That evening, a woman dressed in the latest magical fashion walked into Diagon Alley from muggle London through the Leaky Cauldron. She would soon be known as Elena Ivanova, Lord Voldemort's left hand. She approached Ollivander's Wands and walked inside.

My idea to use polyjuice was self-evident. It did not affect Lord Voldemort's inhuman body and energy field, but that changed with my arrival. The Lestranges? So the Lord performed yet another experiment and can now use polyjuice. So what? Maybe it was research, maybe he decided to get into politics or wanted sex?

Polyjuice did come with its own problems: on my way here, I received many lascivious looks, catcalls, offers to escort me, bewilderment at Russian language. But the more evidence, the better. Nothing overshadowed my annoyance with the body itself. It was too short, thin and frail. By what criteria did Lily choose it? Attracting a date?

"Would you like to buy a wand?" Ollivander smiled at me.

He had a Gift, intuitively sensing wands and determining their match without the need for runic circles and calculations. But this meant he had to work without personal shields or wards over the shop.

I cast wandless and wordless acceleration charm on myself and bit through the capsule with acceleration potion. Before Ollivander could blink, he was stunned with a flash from my cuff link and and tied up by suddenly appeared house elves. Another artifact activated carefully layered charms on my purse - and everything around us came into motion, spiraling into the bottomless bag as if it were a black hole. Absolutely everything: wands, instruments, ingredients, shelves, the workbench... The tied master followed them into a separate compartment. Everything took about two seconds.

My use of commonly available artifacts was very uncharacteristic of the Lord and left no traces at the place so uncluttered by magic.

The elves popped away, but the shop was already covered with wards preventing my escape... Or so they thought... But breaking the wards quickly would equate to leaving an autograph "Lord Voldemort was here." I plastered on a determined expression, gripped my wand uncomfortably hard and walked out of the shop.

Moody was chasing giants somewhere in Wales. Dumbledore was testifying in court. They would undoubtedly drop everything and rush here for Voldemort. But for some girl? They will not even be notified.

I was greeted by a standard Auror cinque.

"Expelliarmus!"

"Immobulus!"

"Stupefy!"

"Petrificus Totalus!"

"Incarcerous!"

Five spells mixed with many weak wordless, wandless disarmers. Effortless to reflect with a single shield, but then they would call for backup.

"Protego!" I said in unwonted, high-pitched voice.

It was surprisingly difficult to cast a cruddy shield with the correct wand movement. Half of their spells breached my shield and got absorbed by an amulet.

"Slugulus Eructo!" I enunciated.

The Auror deflected it with a simple Protego, though it shook him quite a bit. Why play games when they could be dead with one Fiendfyre? I was Elena Ivanova with a freshly stolen wand, not the Dark Lord. True, we were in a war. But when the target was not a Death Eater and used non-lethal spells, law enforcement made their best attempt to arrest first... If they weren't Crouch's underlings. All the more, they saw exactly what I planned: a girl with large potential but not a fighter, relying only on her ocean of energy.

I answered their stunners and binders with more peanuts like stinging hexes, leg lockers, sticking shoes to the ground, tickling and so on. Once in a while one of their shields would break, and the others covered their comrade until he could re-cast it.

My enemies relaxed - Death Eaters did not behave this way. Clearly a mundane robbery, perpetrator to be apprehended alive. They even told me to surrender between the Expelliarmuses. I declined. At last, four of the Order's gofers deigned to show up. They tried to stay inconspicuous until the aurors would need backup.

I tried to break through the barrier. Naturally, it held. Or so it looked to them. How could they know I dumped so much energy into a simple spell that the barrier would collapse if I poked it with my finger? I made a show of pouring all my remaining strength into breaking it and clumsily apparated away.

The Aurors followed me to a quiet clearing, the still disillusioned Orderers not far behind. Did the Aurors see them? Probably. They were allies... But asking for help with one girl would make them a laughing stock of the entire department.

I switched to stronger stunning and paralyzing charms. Two of the aurors concentrated on defense, while the other three continued attacking me. We jumped around the clearing for a good thirty seconds until I succeeded in entering the mind of one of the Aurors holding the shield.

"Reducto!" screamed my auror, pointing the wand at his colleague. The curse hit inside their group shield. At the same time, I conjured "stone thorns" - transfigured sharp spikes springing up from the dirt below them. What would happen if you put a firecracker into a jar of pickles and then punched it with spiked knuckles? A very similar thing happened here - chunks of five Aurors on a spike.

The Order reacted in a flash.

"Reducto!"

"Bombarda!"

"Expulso!"

"Confringo!"

"Orbis!"

Four explosive curses and one blue mini-tornado. At the same time, they sent a request for backup to the Order and a message to the DMLE about the losses, though that was redundant - the aurors' amulets already did the same at their owners' death, and backup was on its way. Unfortunately for them, the Lestranges buried a heap of amulets in this clearing earlier today. And apparition here worked one-way. For them. Destroying them would be only too easy, but some had to survive to spread Elena's legend.

"Protego" I cast again.

I allowed my shield and two more provisionally applied defensive charms break under their spell and attacked back with a potato-peeling charm. This time I made no attempt to botch the spell. It broke through several layers of defenses, got completely ignored by Dark magic shields and hit one Orderer in the face, slicing off his cheek. He shrieked but stayed in formation.

"Bombarda Maxima!"

"Expulso!"

"Protego!"

"Deflecto!"

With Death Eater trademark "Wings of Darkness" I turned into a jet of smoke and dashed a hundred yards to the side.

"Expulso!" I screamed.

A lovely explosion. I followed it with a cascade of nonverbal Seco - their Protego collapsed but Deflecto continued to hold. Their faces reflected almost comical bewilderment - to take out a squad of Aurors and not tucker out...

"Stupefy! Incarcerous!" I added.

One staggered under my stunners, the rest answered with cutting curses. I landed a fish-gutting charm on one orderer's left arm. He did not drop from shock - these were at least smart enough to take potions before battle. Wouldn't save them from the Cruciatus, but an arm shredded to the bone was survivable...

"Sectusempra!" I went on.

Snape's modified cutting curse, leaves a difficult to heal wound, impacts the energy field - that is, Dark. But this body was too slow, leaving them time to shield and strike back. Together they attacked with a convoluted combination: shield penetration, increased sensitivity to acid, acid burst, and an explosive curse. Clearly my lethal attack made them reconsider taking me alive.

A strong mana shield absorbed everything. I continued my act of going from simple to increasingly difficult spells.

The Order goons held against a blunt strike and fire, but a mummifying curse finally took one down. Incredibly enough, he didn't die and the others tried to cover him. The difference an unsuitable wand made!

I continued my assault with a cascade of dark curses: disintegration, bone rot, blood boil... Far from full-powered, allowing them to shield themselves and their wounded comrade. The dawn of panic on their faces probably meant they realized their attempts to escape were futile. Noticed the wards? You won't break them fast enough...

They began resorting to not very legal curses. Pooling their effort into deflecting my lightning curse, one missed a nonverbal bone breaker. Now, that one was definitely dead. Only three were left standing.

At last, I could see fear in their eyes: the girl killed six experienced wizards in minutes, left one unconscious barely hanging on. And only hit two with Dark magic - was it pride or contempt?

The Cruciatus and the Killing Curse that flew at me reeked of desperation. I dodged. Yeah, they had nothing on the Longbottoms, the Sacred 28 taught by Moody and Dumbledore. I turned one inside out. A glob of flesh good as dead. The second one fell from a Crucio. While he was howling on the ground, I drew the final stoke: Fiendfyre. The thrird's terror was palpable without legilimency.

But killing all the witnesses was not on today's menu: my Fiendfyre failed. A burst of flame flew around wildly, broke the ward and died out. This occasionally happened with lack of magical energy or lack of experience. And anyone should have run out of juice by now...

Schooling my face into an annoyed snarl, I cast a relatively weak Seco, as if I had no energy for the Killing Curse. The only remaining hero's arm got a bone-deep cut just before he managed to apparte away, dragging his unconscious and post-Cruciatus shaking friends.

Without the need to clean up the evidence, I apparated away a few seconds later. Soon I was back at the Lestranges', unloading my purse and moving Ollivander to his new accommodations.

It seemed I made no mistakes. The Lord never used house elves. There will be no magic traces to be found at Ollivander's shop. Household charms? Unusual. But when they were not enough, she switched to more traditional battle spells. Dark magic? Not right away, the Cruciatus but no Avadas, failed Fiendfyre. Definitely not the Lord. And now Aurors would try to kill Lily on sight.

Back in my basement, I thought through my plans and tested more household charms until Bellatrix found me.

"My Lord, I have your cup! The vault truly was attacked! Allow me to share the memories!"

She pulled out an isolating container, and from it a gold cup that emitted a derangement of energies resembling the diary. Her story was bound to be interesting.


	10. Hufflepuff's Cup

"Time is of the essence, Bellatrix. Remove your defenses and let me into your mind. I will see everything myself," I said, taking the Cup and its container.

Out of all my staff, I could only say this to the Lestranges and Crouch Jr. without destroying my reputation. Right now the situation demanded it.

I could have used a pensieve, but what if someone watched or stole the memory? Besides, I wanted to take a covert detour in Bella's memories and check how much she cared for her husband. This was the exact reason no one liked inviting people into their mind - analogous to leaving an acquaintance in your home alone for an hour. They may not steal anything but would hardly resist the opportunity to snoop.

I sat her in a chair, and she invited me in to make it less uncomfortable for both of us.

"Legilimens."

...Here I sit across from her and she is basking my attention... She, the proud keeper of my Fidelius, enters my home and is very surprised to find me practicing housekeeping charms... I needed older memories.

Bellatrix receives orders to retrieve the cup and a warning about an attack on her vault... She summons the family lawyer, he brings appraisers... They take an international portkey to the United States. Of course, we are all wanted criminals there as well, but since we do not conduct any operations or bother the locals, they don't bother searching for us. Bella's party enters the American branch of Gringotts and, after a mound of paperwork, travels to the English bank their via internal system. It made sense: goblins won't stand for aurors entering their territory, and the bank guaranteed the clients' safety inside their walls.

...Here Bellatrix under a glamour enters the main hall, followed by her escorts. Gorgeous candelabras, tall ceilings, goblins weighing and counting treasures... For a moment, Bellatrix switches to magical sight: convoluted patterns, bright colors, darting spots. Even I could not comprehend most of the Gringotts defense system.

"How may I help you, Madam Lestrange?" asks Bogrod, leading her to a private room.

"I wish to visit my vault," - replies Bellatrix.

"Do you have your key? Can you prove your identity?"

The goblins meticulously examine her key and wand, then circle around her with some tools vaguely resembling metal detectors.

"Are all these people with you, Madam Lestrange? They must wait here. Access to family vaults is only granted to family members and chaperones of underage heirs."

"Is there any possibility for bringing them with me? I have information that someone is targeting my vault to steal or destroy my property. They are here to assess the potential damages."

"Gringotts is impossible to rob. If there had been an attempt, naturally resulting in the thieves' deaths, we would have informed you."

"I must insist. I also would like for my vault to be opened in the presence of Gringotts bankers with a list of the vault's contents, curse breakers and official witnesses.

An argument... Signing of complaints, disclosures, permissions... After a couple hours of pushing parchment, they eventually agree that Bellatrix will go down with all her people, escorted by several goblins including Bogrod and Gorkras with their metal rattlers, and their human curse breaker employee.

They all get into carts and hurry down. A ride through the caverns at breakneck speed, passing through some glowing charms and a waterfall, and they are greeted by a Ukrainian Ironbelly. After a short dance with clacking gadgets around the dragon, the path is clear.

"As you can see, Madame Lestrange, your vault is perfectly safe. The Bank of Gringotts fulfills all obligations to its clients to the highest standards."

"I would like to retrieve something from my vault. Open it."

The key turns, Bogrod places his palm on the mechanism, and the giant door opens. But instead of neat stacks of gold coins and shelves filled with jewelry and antiques, they see one large coalesced mass. It looks as if a mad jeweler threw everything into a melting furnace and made an enormous shapeless blob of multiple metals. Only goblin-made weapons avoided this fate and now stuck out of the solidified blob, making it look like a deformed fantastical hedgehog.

"I think we need to assess the damage. And calculate the amount of my compensation," says Bellatrix.

I felt her suffocating fear for the Cup's safety.

Bogrod and Gorkras stand stupefied. The curse breaker fires off diagnostic charms. In a few moments, the goblins snap out, take out some analogs of two-way mirrors and rapidly spout something in Gobbledegook. Probably sounding an alarm.

The vault begins to fill with goblins. First, goblins in full armor with various melee weapons and some kind of staves. Then curse breakers and regular bank goblins. The dragon thrashes in glowing red chains that have dragged it into the far corner. The air visibly ripples with magic.

"Madam Lestrange, we are not sure what to tell you. The vault is not damaged. The defense systems have not detected any unauthorized entrances or breach attempts. It was last opened two months ago by a Gringotts employee, and everything was in order. However, there was a recent discharge of energy of unknown nature. Most of the vault's contents got melted and reduced to scrap metal. The only surviving items are goblin weapons and a small gold cup. The cup appears to be a very unusual dark artifact. I should also note that the cup's inspection prior to placing it in the vault determined it posed no danger to the vault contents. If our curse breakers are to be believed, approximately this past Samhain someone used the cup to perform a ritual, and the released energy caused irreversible damage to your items. However, the are no clues about the perpetrators' identities or how they were able to enter or exit the vault. The other theory is that the cup itself caused the blast, but it contradicts the laws of magic. But regardless of what happened, we take full responsibility for everything stored in the bank."

"I am taking the cup with me. Leave the rest as it is, for now."

"The item may be dangerous, it is not recognized by any of our..."

"This is my own problem."

"Additionally, we are required to notify your husband and launch an official investigation..."

"I have to go."

"...And we will be happy to conduct the investigation in close cooperation between Gringotts and the Noble House of Lestrange without undue attention from the press that would only stir up defamatory rumors..."

"Give me the cup. I need to leave now."

"We would like to discuss the compensation to the Lestrange family for the loss of your property and agree on the terms of our further cooperation-"

"The cup, please. For all the paperwork, contact my husband and lawyers."

"Right away. But in the interest of preventing similar incidents in the future, we would like to know the source that informed you of a possible emergency in your vault-"

"Thank you for the cup," says Bella, placing it in a screened container. "I am in a rush. My lawyers and appraisers are staying to discuss the compensation and all other matters. Direct all your question to my husband or Head of Family. I need a cart."

After getting back to the surface, Bella returns home through North America without incident.

But that was not all I watched. Subtly, without diverting from the Gringotts memories, I checked her loyalty. Impeccable. It was not even devotion, not fanaticism, but pure deification. I searched for the cause.

Hogwarts. Bellatrix Black with a crush on the Dark Lord - not romantically but as a rabid fan. Riddle was a rising political star, the heir of Slytherin, the pureblood standard-bearer, so she was far from the only one obsessed with the new leader. They meet in person after her graduation, the Dark Lord begins to court her, she gracefully accepts...

I remembered the rest myself. How could she know the Lord only wanted her for the Black family magic source? Tom could be very charming when he wanted and still looked like a human at the time. He was a welcome guest at the House of Black.

The Blacks had a certain well-earned reputation. I found many interesting books in their library, including the only other mention of horcruxes in the whole of England... Most of all I loved their family pensieve with centuries of memories of torture and muggle hunting...

...A quick, fervid affair with Bellatrix. One night together where Tom proves himself a great lover - it was hard to be anything but great when you could read thoughts.

My memory was crystal clear: even then, she was nothing more than a tool to Lord Voldemort. He had all the prospects for marriage: exceptionally strong wizard, the heir of Slytherin, at the start of a brilliant career, many followers not yet marred by anything illegal, his party steadily gaining votes... But as he studied the Blacks' books, he soon realized that even they would be unable to link his incomplete soul to the source and decided the game was not worth the candle... To avoid a conflict with the Blacks, Riddle left as gracefully as he could.

From Bella's perspective, her beloved says that being with her makes him incredibly happy, but he must choose between family life and making a real difference in the world. Go and be happy, Bella, while I dedicate my life to defending the cause of true witches and wizards...

Bellatrix' memory showed she bought it all. She was an adult and should have at least suspected something was not right! An emotional and impulsive adult - sure, but far from stupid. Did love rob her of common sense? Her admiration of the Dark Lord grew into love, love that never waned and turned into worship...

Then, quite an interesting story with her husband. Arranged marriages were common. So after her breakup with Tom, Bellatrix had no reason to refuse marrying Lestrange: young, rich, handsome, chivalrous - a great deal all around. And other than her Lord, all men were the same to her anyway.

But there appeared a pitfall. Why did most wizards look down upon marrying muggles? High chances of non-magical children. Wizards generally lived much longer than muggles- a strong one could easily push two hundred, and watching your children die from old age is not very pleasant. And in a world where power decided almost everything, magically weak children were guaranteed life-long hardships. Their top opportunities were a career in sports and paper pushing. So if you wanted a successful child, you needed a powerful spouse.

Purebloods ran into an additional problem due to their family magic sources. The Longbottoms' herbology, the Potters' artifact craft, the Ollivanders' wand sense, the Blacks' Dark Arts were not just the results of upbringing and accumulated knowledge but also specialized magical energy. A source was a double-edge sword. It fueled the family members' magic, but each had a distinct "flavor," so some families using the same energy for generations not only got better at their "trademark" magic but also worse at other types. Sometimes the differences made two pureblood families incompatible.

At the first glance, the Blacks -Dark and Battle wizards- should be ideally compatible with the Leatranges -Dark and Battle wizards. At the time, neither had rune and arithmancy specialists in the family, so they ordered the compatibility calculations on the side. Two independent calculations gave the green light.

During a magical wedding, the bride was usually disconnected from her family source and connected to the groom's. A simple ritual fueled by animals, customarily sheep. At the beginning of an extravagant ceremony, Bellatrix had been put through the ritual. The effect was unexpected: instead of a painless switch, the newest Lestrange was taken straight to St. Mungo's with neurogenic shock. To everyone's surprise, the Black and the Lestrange sources turned out to be "partially incompatible." Bellatrix woke up from a coma a month later, after both families spent an inordinate amount of money on her healing -damaged energy fields are no joke. She was successfully connected to the Lestrange source and eventually recovered but the damage had robbed her of the ability to bear children. To Rodolphus' credit, he never treated her any differently - maybe he truly loved her... I should check.

And those runologists who did the calculations? I remembered it well: The Blacks, the Lestranges and Tom organized their mysterious disappearance, and the two died very slowly... That was when Tom first saw sparks in the Bella's eyes as she sweetly and affectionately said "Crucio!"

The reason for this tragedy hurt the most: not revenge, not a murder attempt but banal stupidity and laziness. The first expert began his calculations, and everything looked good, so he simply tailored the results to his hunch. The second... Though he lived in a different country, he occasionally visited the first's wife and in his absence copied a number of papers from the first's safe, including "the calculation of compatibility between the Black and the Lestrange magic sources." Without even beginning his own calculations, he turned in a copy with cosmetic changes, claiming it was his own work. Unfortunately, their deaths and posthumous revocation of diplomas could help Bellatrix only morally.

Everyone learned a bitter lesson. Before Narcissa's and Lucius' marriage, the compatibility between Blacks and Malfoys was calculated by sixteen teams from five different countries. The unanimous consensus declared them compatible.

I completely understood Andromeda Black's decision to run away from this madhouse and quietly enjoy life... Still, unlike children, a magical source was incredibly useful: double your regeneration speed, power stationary wards and defenses, charge artifacts...

Inconspicuously prying all of that out of Bella was difficult... I left her mind.

"I am satisfied with you, Bella. Reapply your defenses."

"My Lord, I am your most faithful..."

While Bella was pronouncing her loyalty radiating with joy and happiness, I had time to think.

I managed to get the cup back relatively smoothly: all witnesses would stay silent under vows, and the mess of the ambient magic made it difficult to reconstruct the events. Nothing else was taken out of the vault, the bank employees analyzed everything on site. There should be no leaks, but even if it happened, they would blame an exploded potion or dark artifact. How unexpected: a dark artifact in the vault of a Dark family that serves the Dark Lord, and here we thought they used it to store flowers.

What would be the most logical conclusion? The Lestranges put something explosive in their vault, but it unexpectedly went off too early. And it was the goblins' own fault for missing it. No one would suspect a horcrux. The goblins saw that the cup had turned into something bizarre, but Gringotts did not meddle in their clients' affairs. So, despite the large number of witnesses, everything was successful. Though it wouldn't hurt to bind Bella's lawyer and appraisers with additional vows...

Now, the next goal. Bellatrix Lestrange. The title of unequivocally trusted servant could only be earned posthumously, but I will make an exception for her. The only exception. I already established the fact of her loyalty and its causes.

For my previous incarnation, she was a just an ally, a servant, a soldier; he preferred ignoring her love. But I was not like him! After the last Samhain, Bellatrix had a chance.

Without doubt, she would do absolutely anything for her beloved Lord. But legilimency showed she felt no sexual desire towards me, so dragging her to bed had to wait. Temporarily, while I carefully cultivated her...

Why her specifically? Unlike Tom with his horcruxes, I had an interest in women. How to satisfy my needs? The first option was muggle women. I would definitely find one to fit my tastes among the millions of them, but then... I did not see the appeal of sex that required the help of love potions, the Imperius or memory erasing. A brothel, money of house as gift was a viable option- after all, I would not be spending my own money. But if it ever came out, a muggle-lover reputation would utterly and forever ruin me. Moreover, it would leave an open door for Aurors. My deadliest foes, like Crouch Sr, could try assassinating me by turning the muggle woman into a bomb. Considering that I would be caught without shields or pants and somewhat distracted, they could have a real chance of success... Or one of my own fanatics, like Avery or Crouch Jr, would begin killing "the trash besmirching the Lord." Hiding and, in case of detection, killing my own allies was not worth any muggle woman.

Hence, I had to look for a witch capable of defending herself who had no motive to kill me. This very drastically narrowed my options. All enemies were out. Neutrals were also out: relationship with Voldemort would immediately make them my allies and enemies of the Ministry hunted by Aurors and the Order.

So, who were the loyal women? Carrow? I never found her attractive... Flipping through Tom's memories lead to the conclusion that only the Black sisters and Lily fit my tastes. Lily was a definite no: blight on the reputation, saw me as a murderous monster, could lose her mind and attack me, was possibly useful for controlling Snape... Andromeda? Almost identical to Lily. Narcissa? Beautiful, from a loyal family but not marked. And married. That'd be okay, but Lucius loved her, and a scorned financial executive could cause untold damage.

I did not idealize love. Love was no guarantee of compatibility. You could fall in love with someone with different life goals, perhaps even contrary to your own. Or someone whose philosophy or world view clashed with yours. Or someone who drained you of energy and happiness.

I needed love like a fish needed a bicycle.

But Bellatrix Lestrange... She was ideal: young, beautiful, loyal, powerful, shared my views. Would never kiss me with poisoned lipstick. So what if I did not love her? I didn't love the others either, and they were all much worse! I got a jackpot.

She was barren? Again, ideal! Then I won't be killed by my heirs - what if they turned out talented and vicious, taking after their patricidal father?

She was married? Indeed, inconvenient...

A conflict with the Lestranges was the last thing I needed. Even a mere work-to-rule strike would be very problematic. And killing three of my best servants was unthinkably wasteful. How to solve this problem?

I could get around it: let her stay married and keep the relationship a secret. But if the secret were uncovered... Rodolphus purportedly loved her, and while his vows would prevent him from harming me, he might drink himself to death... The rest of the Lestranges might also take offense, and I had too much hinging on them... So this option was discarded.

Divorce? Technically possible but rarely practiced in the magical world. And my relationship with the Leatranges might still take a nose dive...

The most feasible alternative was Rodolphus' prompt heroic death. Pity, he was one of my most trusted and a great spell crafter. I will think it over some more...

Besides, I needed to find a way to preserve Bella's combat value. Disconnecting her from the Lestranges will half her regeneration, and she could not go back to the Blacks' source... Maybe I will try connecting her to the Longbottoms' as Neville's adoptive mother, once he is the only Longbottom left... Need to calculate the compatibility... Or ideally, I would find the Slytherin source and make us Lord and Lady Slytherin... Or connect her to the Ministry or Hogwarts as an employee after my victory...

How ironic. Lord Voldemort had enormous power and influence but was not free to choose a partner. Maybe that was why purebloods hated those who married muggles: blood-traitors did whatever they wanted, while they had to do what was proper. An illusion of power.

I was uncomfortable with Tom's priorities. He could kill anyone. Or order anyone to be killed. Or torture. He lived at his servants' manors, owned nothing aside from his wand. Subjected himself to numerous experiments that robbed him of the simplest joys of life. I felt like his goal was not living well himself but rather making everyone else miserable. Not so for me.

Still, getting too used to a good life was dangerous. Surrounding myself with mansions and harems would waste time and lead to death from deteriorated skills... I was Lord Voldemort, a one-wizard army. Staying out of combat was not possible - where I could get in and out without notice, my servants would attract the entire DMLE... And everyone who loved luxury and harems, from the Ottoman Empire to Chinese emperors, never ended well - I did not plan on dying. But there will be time to think about all that after the war...

These were the thoughts that whirled through my head as Bella was restoring her defenses.

We went back to the Lestrange manor together. I had so much to do...

"Serpensortia" I conjured a giant snake.

I got a real taste for it, and soon the garden was filled with hundreds of various snakes. Bella gushed with excitement beside me. I conjured an illusion of Nagini.

" _My snake named Nagini was lost around here. She looks like this,"_ I told the snakes, pointing at the illusion. _"Find her or her body. The magic around her might feel strange. Go do it._ "

Parseltongue was not exactly a language. It was a mental ability to control snakes, the hissing serving as a crutch for the human mind. Anyone could take the time to learn to hiss orders at snakes, but they would not listen. They had no choice but to obey me. Too bad I could not convey Nagini's smell via illusion and didn't have a copy of her magical signature. The snakes will have to rely on what I gave them...

On the way back, we ran into Rodolphus.

"My Lord, I just received a notice from Gringotts about an incident in our vault..."

"I know. Blame everything on Dumbledore," I answered.

"No one will believe it, my Lord. The vaults exist in folded space, not even Phoenixes can apparate inside. And not even Dumbledore can enter Gringotts completely undetected."

"I know, Rodolphus. But the goblins giving us a report on Dumbledore's abilities would be a boon in itself."

Then we began developing plans: attack on Hogsmeade, attack on Diagon, attack on the Potters' and the Longbottoms' funeral, attack, attack, explosions, kidnappings, reports, reviews... Edward was the Chief of Staff, Rabastan the secretary, Bella and Rodolphus helped in any way they could. Soon, finalized plans had to be passed to the operatives at the the meeting.

Meanwhile, I should ponder how to best penetrate a pyramid barrier and a Miller Dome weaved in Klein bottle pattern which were covering the French mercenary base. These were unprofessional, biased mercenaries: refused our money but then accepted Dumbledore's and the Ministry's...

I got distracted by Malfoy.

"My Lord, as your most faithful servant, I am delighted to report..."

This time I broke into his mind in under fifty minutes. He found several fitting areas for the acromantulas but really did not want to keep them on his land and was searching for someone not connected to him to pass on the burden. But this was all but irrelevant next to his main concern: what did he do with four million galleons? And why was the Malfoy manor sterilized from top to bottom? And where was that slacker Dobby? And why did his wife go to France with his son? Did they have a fight?

"My Lord, might I ask whether you gave me any "special orders"?"

"I did, my slippery friend. Do not attempt to remember it. I need a diagram of the ritual you use to erase your memories."

While Lucius was sharing the information, I was checking his honesty.

"Lucius, remove everything banned and compromising from your manor. Then organize a search of it to show how law-abiding you are. You are free to go."

Back at my house, at night, in my sleep, I searched through my memories of the Black library. For instance, this tattered tome in the far corner, The Rite of Sacrifice: _"...ancient magic capable of defending the target from any negative impact. Performed without a wand, the Rite requires only a sincere, burning desire to give up your life for the life of another, while having an opportunity to save yourself..._ " Surely there were some Death Eaters who would willingly die for me to grant me protection... For example, Rodolphus Lestrange...

The next day, Lestranges and I continued sitting around the table over our battle plans. At least I fully recovered. Perhaps I should go get some air?

"My Lord, Severus Snape is here to see you. He says he brought potions."

"Tell him I will meet him in the small parlor in thirty minutes."


	11. Severus Snape's Test of Loyalty

Before me stood Severus Snape. The only half-blood in the Inner Circle who had made it to the elite on his talent and hard work. The youngest Potions Master in Europe. Snape's mental shields by far surpassed Malfoy's, and Snape never wore any mind-protection amulets. Confidence or arrogance? Or just not enough money? Tom was certain of his loyalties, but I had already decided to re-test everyone. Especially Snape: his and Lily's memories showed conflicting pictures of his past. And his role my plans alone required another thorough legilimency session.

The power-hungry Snape from his own memories could have been my demo-version. The "lost teenager" in Lily's memories would fit right in with the Order of the Phoenix vanguard. The easiest and most plausible explanation was that Lily misjudged her childhood friend. Even so, I had more questions.

I could believe a twenty year old Snape asking me to leave Lily alive "for him." But a sixteen year old begging a girl he privately called a mudblood to forgive him, motivated by desire to possess her? Why give her so much honor? Why demean himself before a mudblood? A cunning plan? Then when did Snape become this cunning and cruel? At sixteen? That would put him on a par with Tom Riddle, who would have never cared to ask for Lily's life. All the more unclear was why he made friends with her before school. How did he plan to use a little girl? A child's folly he later came to regret? But then he could not be the same level of bastard: Tom always knew love and friendship were illusions.

If he really valued Lily, then I already had the means to pressure him sitting in my house. Snape was valuable as a potions master, but most importantly he had access to Hogwarts! This introduced so many possibilities: diversions, my infiltration, storming the castle from the inside, retrieving the diadem and the Basilisk, searching through the Chamber - Tom took out all the valuables, but one can never be too sure... A teacher and a Head of house could influence children in the right direction...

"Did you bring all the potions, Severus?" I asked.

"Yes, my Lord: the 11 Paths, bone liquifiers, acid blood, Felix Felicis, polyjuice..."

"Good. Put everything on that table, the elves will take them to the warehouse later. Are you my loyal servant, Severus?"

"I live to serve, my Lord."

Rummaging through his mind required breaking his shields, but direct eye contact should be enough to ascertain whether he was lying. He was not.

"You asked me to spare the mudblood. She jumped in front of the curse meant for her son. She is dead. I trust you are not going to hold a grudge and it will not be a problem?"

"No, my Lord" he answered calmly. My abilities confirmed this was true. And Lily thought she meant something to him... Was she wrong?

"The are many women worthy of your attention. Pureblood ones."

"You are right, my Lord. It was a momentary weakness."

Again, the truth. How strange... Let's say I killed someone's favorite parrot... Shouldn't he at least take offense? If Snape was upset but tried to hide it, I would have no further questions. But I saw absolutely no emotions! Tom considered it normal, I thought it a baffling exception. I saved the Lestranges from dying out, I had a fling with Bella, Crouch Jr. was a sick fanatic, but Snape was a pragmatist and should not have reacted this way. He desired money and power. He could earn plenty of money brewing. Power? What power, writhing under Crucios? Murdering and ravaging with impunity? Then why ask to leave Lily alive? He desired her so much that he begged me under the threat of Cruciatus, but then was not at all upset when I failed to fulfill his only request in years of service? Something didn't quite add up.

"I am dissatisfied with the information you bring me. Crucio!"

Snape fell and started thrashing. I wanted to see how his defenses reacted to pain, hoping he would lose his concentration. But there still wasn't even the slightest hint of anger or sense of injustice. Incredibly suspicious. I canceled the spell.

"You understand that you deserved this pain, don't you, Severus?"

"Yes, my Lord."

He supposedly loathed Potter.

"James Potter is dead. Are you happy?"

"Yes, my Lord."

Once again, true. And indistinguishable from his other statements.

"He was betrayed by Sirius Black, their secret keeper. What a foolish trust in friends."

"Indeed, my Lord."

"Do you have any new information regarding Dumbledore's plans?"

"There has been no new information since the last meeting."

"Take off all your defenses, Severus. I will search through your memories. You may have missed something important."

Tom had already thoroughly legilimized Snape during his initiation into the Inner Circle, when he delivered the prophecy and begged to spare Lily. Tom had been satisfied with him every time.

Snape deactivated his mental shield. As for occlumency... It was not a spell and always remained with him, but Snape will let me through the barriers.

"Legilimens!"

I watched everything. Spying on Dumbledore. Request to spare Lily. Bullies. Abusive fater. It was doubtless, unadulterated truth, but what reason did he have to be so loyal? Could he be lying?

"Crucio," I tried again, this time remaining in his mind. But the picture persisted. Everything was either true or Snape was the best occlument I have ever seen. I stopped the curse.

"You disappoint me. The information was utterly worthless. You must work harder."

"Yes, my Lord."

"And now I want you to participate in an experiment."

"My Lord?"

"Follow me."

I designed an excellent test. And added insurance, in case he really was loyal.

We entered the ritual hall.

"I trust you don't mind sacrificing muggles?"

"No, my Lord. I have done it before."

This was a memory-erasing ritual kindly provided by Lucius. Five muggles, drinking a banned potion - and the target forgets everything within two hours prior to the ritual and nearly 12 hours after. A plain, unrecoverable memory gap.

Severus obediently drank from the bottle I handed him... Five deaths and rhythmically glowing runes... I should probably give him an explanation...

"Severus, I created a potion and want to test its effects. Since it reacts badly with magic in any form, you will be the tester, and I will cover you. To this end, you will first remove all your defenses, artifacts, and any potions you carry, give me your wand, and charge artifacts until you reach magical exhaustion. Then we will go to my private lab to test the potion. Do you understand, Severus?"

"Yes, my Lord."

Uncanny... No surprise or fear. Emotionally too ideal of a servant.

Snape stood in the runic circle and began charging jewelry pieces, placing them one by one into another circle. These artifacts worked analogously to muggle guns, shooting simple spells: stunners, binders, lightning bolts... The spells had to be imbued into the artifact and replenished once used up.

Half an hour later, having spent an average pureblood's reserve, Severus finally burned out.

I gave him two more potions.

"Drink. These will give you Maribor's side effect."

Certain potions combinations produced side effects ranging from unpleasant to outright deadly. Maribor's temporarily stopped magic regeneration. So now Snape posed no threat to anyone even theoretically.

"Wonderful, Severus. Your will be rewarded for your service. I will now apparate us to my lab."

The easiest option was to show him Lily. Easy but stupid: I had no idea of his loyalties. He could accept the reward and continue working for Albus. Another option was to forcefully rip through his mind in search of a hidden layer, but that all but guaranteed his insanity. And if he was loyal, I would lose my only spy in Dumbledore's herd. I sensibly decided to take care of two problems in one fell swoop: test Snape's allegiances an retrieve the Slytherin locket.

We reappeared on a cliff surrounded by raging sea. The scene brought back a rush of foreign memories, though by now they may as well be mine...

Long ago, in 1930s, a tiny village next to the coastal cliffs got a visit from London orphans on a "field trip." I was among them, having recently discovered my superhuman abilities. After exploring the surroundings I found a cliff wall that concealed an entrance to a giant cave. It was difficult to approach from the land and entirely inaccessible from the water, but I managed to get in myself and lead the way for two other orphans. I liked Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop even less than I did everyone else...

A couple of pain jolts... Not Cruciatus or even full-fledged torture, but very impressive for a wandless little boy who knew nothing about magic... A random sailor corpse carried in by the currents and slightly animated with a force of will... This was one of Tom's happiest memories: the feeling of absolute power over defenseless muggles, the first corpse of the future necromancer scaring children... So happy that Tom always used it for conjuring a Patronus in Hogwarts... Pity that subterfuge demanded they return alive... But my simple performance still made the children a bit "off." They stopped bothering me and only said that they went sightseeing with Tom in response to everyone's questions.

The inaccessibility of the cave and my first fond memories made the place very attractive. I decided to hide the Slytherin medallion here, certain that it will be impossible to find, much less reach. I added defenses: the entrance demanded human blood, with rather gruesome results for the blood's owner; the cave prevented apparition, portkeys, levitation and so on.

The horcrux itself rested on an island in the middle of an underground lake, at the bottom of a basin filled with a potion that was impossible to pour out or destroy. It had to be consumed, and anyone would have a hard time drinking this sludge: it caused excruciating pain and visions of the drinker's worst fears.

Finishing the potion caused near-lethal thirst, forcing the intruder to drink from the lake (water-conjuring spells didn't work). As soon as the subject approached the water, he would be greeted with inferi. The cave allowed no more than two people inside, and no one could fight off hundreds of inferi protected by charmed water. Apparition did not work, the boat only worked one way for anyone not matching Voldemort's soul imprint. Burning the basin from a distance with Fiendfyre was impossible: it existed in slightly shifted space-time, similar to the Fidelius.

In short, the cave had flawless security.

"This is the location of my hidden lab, Severus. It is well-defended. To enter, you must carefully follow my every order, understood?"

"Yes, my Lord."

I conjured a large bubble around us and plunged it into the water with telekinesis. We passed through the underwater entrance - no need to wait for low tide.

All my charms seemed in order. The cave accepted my soul imprint. I must have inherited a lot from the original, and Tom anticipated the possibility of some changes as he made more horcruxes.

"Severus, you will now cut your hand and spill your blood on this stone," I said, illuminating it.

Riddle prided himself on these charms: they locked onto a sample of the victim's energy and consumed it, causing permanent physical and magical defects, which quickly led to painful death. They were impossible to circumvent. But as their creator, I could adjust the intensity and length of the impact. No reason to leave Snape dead or disabled, but his magical exhaustion will be long and excruciating...

Snape followed my orders correctly, and we entered the second, larger cave.

The view was strikingly eerie: we stood on the bank of an underground lake, too large to see its other side. The cave's tall ceiling was shrouded in darkness. Far away, in the middle of the lake appeared a misty green glimmer reflected in still water. Riddle's memory helpfully supplied the number of cemeteries he plundered all around the world to cram the lake with thousands of muggle and wizarding bodies. And the waters only kept swelling with more recent victims ever since- throw in a corpse, and enchanted water will slowly transform it into a zombie or an inferus. Tom occasionally added more guards... in large batches...

Instead of answering, I sent a ball of light towards the lake's center.

"The potion awaits us there."

My plan? While Severus drinks the potion, he will lose the hold over his occlumency. I will see everything he was hiding and retrieve the locket. And then... I will either defend my faithful servant from the inferi - I had enough strength to hold them off until the boat brought us back; or feed the traitor to the undead... Or keep him alive to leak disinformation to Dumbledore. And if this potion does not break him... He is either my most devoted servant or I ought to be begging to join the new Dark Lord.

We stepped into the boat, surrounded by darkness.

"My Lord, are those inferi?"

"My lab has most stringent security, Severus."

His thoughts showed no fear. No hesitation. Only loyalty... But he couldn't throw me overboard - I had shields. And was prepared to grab him if he tried to jump out himself.

We docked at an island the size of a tiny room: a single slab of dark, smooth rock, completely empty save for the source of now bight green light. The light flowed from a stone basin resembling a pensieve. I could see the outline of my locket under the potion.

"Examine the potion, Severus."

"A glowing emerald liquid. Odorless. How can I examine it, my Lord? I have no tools or reagents and am uncertain how to transport it - a transfigured container may interact with it."

"It will not," I said, transfiguring a goblet from air. "Now drink it."

"My Lord, is it lethal?" - asked Snape, his thoughts continuing to transmit the same certainty and deference.

"No. Drink."

Was he showing me what he assumed I wanted to see? No matter, he had no way out - I will force the potion down his throat if necessary. Be proud, Snape: you will test the only sample of the Drink of Despair brewed in centuries. I reconstructed the recipe from half-forgotten lore. If anyone knew, I would be immediately granted a potions mastery. Although... the ingredients alone, even without taking into account the process of production and the effects on the drinker, would earn me the kiss... Or burning at the stake...

Snape took the conjured goblet and drank. No change. He was my loyal servant.

"My Lord, this potion brings back distressing memories. I see my mother's death. The memories are emotionally amplified and stretched out. I don't think I should drink any more or I will become insane."

I felt he was telling the truth. But I needed to retrieve the locket. What was I supposed to do, drink it myself?

"Continue drinking, Severus. I will not allow you to go insane. If you finish the potion, it will produce a new effect."

I lied about the new effect. If you refuse, I will force you.

A second goblet. Before me stood a more ghastly-looking loyal servant.

Third. Snape's face twitched convulsively. The goblet fell from his slackened grip, but I caught it. He slumped against the basin and tried to steady his hard, raspy breath.

"My Lord, I cannot drink any more..."

"You must, Severus."

What if you deceived me with hidden occlumency shields? If my suspicions turned out to be wrong... I will protect you from the inferi, and you will not remember anything.

"My Lord, I can't..."

With no shields to stop it, a wandless nonverbal paralysis felled him in one hit. I weakened the spell to allow him to control his face and speak, then poured more potion into his prone body. Number four.

"Lily, forgive me..."

Now, this was interesting. His mother's name was definitely not Lily... Eileen?

"I don't want to, please don't make me... Don't!" he squealed on the ground.

"Drink, Severus," I put the goblet to his lips, pouring everything in for the fifth time.

"I'll kill you," said Snape sluggishly. Over his all-pervasive loyalty, I started to get a vague sense of shame, hatred or contempt... My potions master was clearly hiding something.

"It was not supposed to be this way!" he suddenly shouted.

I gave him the sixth goblet. Once he drank it, the amplified hallucinations of his most horrifying moments finally broke him. And I saw everything.

Snape's greatest talent did not lie in potions. Thoughts of anyone reading his mind terrified him, so he never stopped improving his occlumency. His shield was a masterpiece. Entering into his mind was akin to entering a sphere - whatever I did, however I changed my own position or turned the sphere, all I could see was pictures on its inner surface. Under immense mental pain, the sphere began to crack. I cast a perception acceleration charm on myself and broke into his inner world.

...With Lily's tragic death, my worthless life lost its lasts purpose. All grand plans, hopes and dreams reduced to ashes and pain. Thirst for power and knowledge replaced by the Dark Mark and hopelessness. I was asking, begging them: one to spare her, the other to save her. But neither of these soulless beasts gave a damn about my prayers. The first's answer was clear in his cold eyes. On the way to his goals, Lord Voldemort stepped over entire ancient families. What importance was the life of a twenty year old girl, even thrice-pureblood? But a muggleborn... Lily would be lucky if he killed her quickly... And Dumbledore... I shackled myself with vows, and all he gave me was a sad face and said "they trusted the wrong person..."

And much, much more. Throwing dust in my eyes, reporting to Dumbledore... His occlumency turned out stronger than my legilimency!

My fury had no bounds - traitor! I should Avada him, torture him to insanity, feed him to the corpses piece by piece... But in the end, my desire for more information won by a nose. Who knew how long the hole in his defenses would last?

I kept pouring potion into his mouth and sorting his memories into conjured flasks.

What can I say? It went beyond my wildest guesses. This moron loved Lily worse than Romeo - senselessly, with no regard for reciprocity, compatibility, their opposite political camps... Snape was initially happy to serve me. But once I decided Lily matched the prophecy, he defected to Dumbledore and gave a heap of vows in exchange for a promise to protect her. Right after he asked me to spare her.

And the funniest part: while I was busy working on Lily's new accommodations at one of my new houses, Severus was crying in Albus' office over her tragic murder and giving new vows: helping the Order, avenging Lily's death, assisting in bringing down the Dark Lord... Was he an idiot?! I understood the first set of vows, but the second? He never even thought to ask me "Lord, do you remember I asked you for a readhead, did you spare her?" What sense did it make to give oaths without making sure she was dead first?! Was I supposed to kill everyone and leave the girl stunned where I found her? Our core party line was killing mudbloods! Or was I supposed to owl the girl to him at Hogwarts, wrapped with a bow and a note "Thank you for your excellent service. Lord Voldemort. P.S. open it where no one can see you"?! How hard was it to guess that I staged her death? He gave a vow to avenge her without seeing the body!

I really wanted to kill him... or at least see how long it will take him to go insane from Cruciatus..

But the logical part of me argued it was senseless and wasteful. I now knew everything about him and had the perfect blackmail material: Lily, his great, pure but tragic love. And this love should be used.

If it wasn't for his betrayal, Snape's story would actually be quite amusing: a high-ranking Death Eater fell in love with a muggleborn from the Order, put her in his master's crosshairs, then defected to save her...

I was not Riddle. I will frame everything just right, and Snape will be my loyal spy in Hogwarts, deceiving the Headmaster like he did me.

Some of the rituals used for Snape's vows were new to me - into the memory vials you go. And the vows themselves... some could be removed, some redirected to backfire on other victims, some -like vengeance for Lily- easily nullified, and the rest... I'll think of something...

What was the biggest problem with vows? Their wording. Swearing to be at home by 6pm was easy but unacceptable for a double agent: Voldemort urgently summoned you at 5:59, and your choices narrowed to blown cover and death. Snape's vows to Dumbledore had to be ambiguous enough to let Snape klll innocent muggles and muggleborns, lest he is ousted as a bleeding-heart shirker.

On the other hand, "help the Order of the Phonenix" and "prevent the deaths of people you are able to save" could be interpreted in a multitude of ways. For instance, I say "torture this captured Order member for two hours before killing -too harsh, my Lord! -fine, one hour and fifty minutes!" As far as the vow was concerned, this constituted help. And Snape could not save him. "Do everything in your power to assist with the Dark Lord's defeat" was concerning, but I was sure I could somehow get him off the hook.

I continued ransacking his mind and copying memories... Begging Dumbledore to save Lily... Hysterics after her "death..."

Snape was on his tenth goblet.

"I want to die! I want to die! Stop it, I want to die!"

You are still too useful... You can die when you kill Albus.

...And finally the last, twelfth goblet.

"KILL ME!"

I sighed.

"Crucio!"

Snape did not even flinch. He was lost somewhere in the recesses of his mind.

He soon lost consciousness. Let him nap a bit while I get my horcrux.

I reached into the basin. And saw a locket. A different one. My vision blurred with fury. Indescribable fury, a single-minded urge to murder and destroy. To apparate into the center of a large muggle city and burn it with Fiendfyre, watching them try to extinguish it but burn, burn, burn...

With a herculean effort, I pulled myself together.

The locket, then.

Diagnostic charms did not reveal any danger, so I picked it up... The imitation did not emit an aura of death or anything strange like the cup and the diary.

I opened it, having long forgotten about Severus. If even one of my horcruxes was destroyed, it spelled nothing good for me...

It contained a note:

 _"To the Dark Lord,_

 _I know I will be dead long before you read this but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match you will be mortal once more._

 _R.A.B."_

The letter lifted my spirits! It was an arrogant mistake and will provide me a lot of information... First of all, it excluded Dumbledore as a suspect. Second, this R.A.B. thought I only had one horcrux. Third, he could not destroy it and died - the horcrux may still be in one piece. And most importantly, I had a handwriting sample! It made fiding the thief's name a simple matter of looking through OWL and NEWT exam archives: even those educated abroad had to pass British exams, and no foreign wizard could be invested enough into our war to steal my horcrux.

But who? First of all I should check rich purebloods who could possibly know about horcruxes. Who matched? Bullstrode? Burke? Black? Brustwehr? A foreigner? A half-blood with a pseudonym?

Fortunately, I was not Riddle - my soul would remain with me even if worst came to worst. But the itch to check on the diadem kept growing... And most importantly, how did they carry the locket out of here? The boat did not work... A new one could not be conjured...Stepping into the water was suicide... Apparition was blocked... Unless...

"Gaby! Tony!" I called.

The house elves did not come. Tom's wards only allowed entrance through the front door. Everything was correct. But then I recalled my newly learned lessons on house elf apparition... True, an elf would have to arrive here on foot but could easily apparate out alone, without a human... but with an object...

I felt like a fool. But no, that was wholly on Tom! Only he could create a perfect defense against lasers and be killed by a hammer! Moron! Not to account for house elves and their magic!

In all likelihood, the elf entered with a sacrificial human and apparated back to his owner. The house elf I was using to test the cave belonged to the Blacks. The inferi dragged the elf under water, but I was laughing instead of confirming his death... Did he survive? Maybe the leak originated from him? If the elf turns out a false lead, I should search through the documents for others matching R.A.B. initials

I copied the locket and note with Geminio, put the decoy back an basin and watched it quickly cover with new potion.

Poor Severus. He was born under an unlucky star.

"Crucio" he was alive but evidently still unconscious because not even a Crucio perked him up.

Time to bring him out of it and give him some water or he will die. Ennervate jerked him back to reality, a Flippendo threw him towards the edge. He crawled and drank. Now dying of thirst was not a threat.

Hands, many dead hands suddenly grabbed Snape and dragged him underwater. He deserved to die ripped apart by inferi many times over... But he also had access to Hogwarts, Dumbledore's well-founded trust and occlumency capable of deceiving the old man... And I had a perfect way to control him. So, Snape, you won your life today.

Pouring the most I ever had into Fiendfyre, I drove the undead back underwater. The slow ones burned. Conjured ropes rushed into the lake like intelligent snakes and pulled Snape into the boat. I immobilized him, and we headed back. Alas, the way way back was not as easy: I had to maintain the cursed fire, burning endless inferi swarming under and around us. Good thing I had air filtration charms. The only other capable of this was Albus - but the boat would not take him back, and he'd have to practice walking on water.

After getting out of the cave, I gave Snape the Draught of Living Death, transfigured him into a statuette and put it in my pocket. He will be my private prisoner while I think over how to bypass his vows... Fast, so he will be awake to witness Lilly's dramatic performance at the general meeting. As far as the other Death Eaters were concerned, Snape would be busy brewing an emergency potion my basement, and the lemon fiend could think whatever he wanted about Snape's absence from Hogwarts.

I returned to the Lestranges'. Pity Bella and Narcissa were not Blacks anymore -the house elf will not heed their call, if he was still alive. I must think of a way to get to him through Sirius Black. And research magical vows... The purebloods should have plenty on the topic.

In the meantime, I had an important conversation with the eldest Lestrange.

"Hello, my old friend. Remember how we used to drink back at Hogwarts, talking about how we'd change the world?"

In reality, these were not friendly get-togethers but recruiting my first servants, cementing my leadership...

"We sure did, my Lord."

Overly sentimental on my part? Edward was one of the first Death Eaters, we went to school together, he was my most loyal, the head of a family I saved from extinction... Who was worthy of a chat with the Lord if not him?

I called a house elf and ordered drinks.

"My Lord, may I ask where Snape disappeared to? I didn't think he was going back to Dumbledore so soon..."

"Snape is such a promising young man! Strong despite his unfortunate blood. I was thinking of taking him as a student: excellent potioneer, good occlument, a worthy Dark wizard... But it turned out he can't handle drinking! He was on the floor after the third glass, then received a couple Crucios for disrespect. I had to erase his memory. He is not yet worthy of my time."

"You don't say, my Lord!"

"Naturally, this must stay between us. Young people these days... Back in our time..."

And now to smoothly shift the conversation towards where I could view OWL and NEWT records... Or handwriting samples from diploma petitions...

All the while talking Edward's head off, I was getting around his defenses. Tom had absolute faith in the Lestranges. But lately, his mistakes were becoming a trend: the locket's safety, Snape's loyalty, conviction that only Albus could withstand his legilimency... Besides, I needed to quietly check how much Edward loved his eldest son, his stance on divorces and Bella's possible new last name...

Before I had a chance to finish, my stroll through his mind got interrupted by one of my conjured snakes crawling into the room.

" _We found your snake, Master. But she does not move or speak. I show you._ "

" _Lead,_ " I answered. "I have to go. It appears my snakes found Nagini. We will finish this conversation next time," I bid farewell to Edward.

I followed the garter snake outside. If they found Nagini, why hasn't she come herself? What did not moving or speaking mean? Dead? Sleeping? Shedding? I better check...


	12. The Death Eater Meeting

I was following the nameless snake through the Lestranges' gardens. Where was Nagini hiding so no one could find her for several days?

We stopped before a hole in the ground that looked like a rabbit burrow.

" _She is down there, Master._ "

And how was I to get down there? Transfigure myself into an animal? Simpler was probably better - just widen the hole into a tunnel large enough for a human.

" _Lead_ ,' I said.

The snake slithered down, and I flew behind her, widening the passage with magic. A couple of nifflers scurried our of my way. They were not garden gnomes, but the Lestranges should still clean up their gardens... Nagini likely decided to hunt and was traveling through these tunnels when she got hit with the backlash from Voldemort's soul switch.

Drilling through the earth was effortless. Maybe I could try digging an underground tunnel into Hogwarts? No, it will be easily detected...

About twenty feet below the surface I finally found my snake. The magic surrounding her felt strange but very unlike my ex-horcruxes. Not surprising: Tom simply hadn't had time to make her into one.

" _Nagini, how are you feeling_?"

No reaction. Odd, all snakes were compelled to answer me... Time for diagnostic charms.

Long ago, when Tom was 16, he created his first horcrux using his diary as the vessel. A year later, he made another from Marvolo Gaunt's ring. Ritually splitting his soul for the second time was much harder and left him feeling terrifyingly close to losing his body. Tom panicked and asked Slughorn why no one made more than one horcrux. Having received no coherent answer, he began preparing for the ritual more seriously: increasingly complex runic circles, a modified ritual. Evidently, the less of his soul remained, the more risky it was to tear... In 1946, with a plethora of precautions, he was able to make two more: Slytherin's locket and Hufflepuff's cup. Several years later, he once again nearly died during the creation of the diadem horcrux.

Tom went back to calculations. The results suggested one more ritual would disembody him unless he used a living vessel. And so, Tom began preparing his familiar for the ritual. He hadn't had a chance to perform it before my arrival, and Nagini remained a magical snake with temporary enchantments.

In simple terms, familiars were companion animals bound to their masters' souls. The bond either developed with prolonged, powerful emotional connection (most commonly with childhood owls) or was created with a ritual. It granted the wizard some qualities of his familiar animal and the ability to interact with it. This was how the first parselmouths came into existence: entire generations of wizards continuously chose snakes as familiars, integrating the snake language into their energies so much that it became an inherited trait.

There were some downsides: possible destabilization of human psyche, inheriting behavioral traits - aggression from predators, coldness from reptiles, grubbiness from scavengers and so on. While anyone could make a cat or an owl a familiar, very few had enough power to bind a magical creature. And the stronger the animal, the more its instincts affected the owner...

I was examining Lord Voldemort's familiar. The soul incident clearly affected the bond. The readings were baffling: Nagini was in a coma and partially my familiar... Partially how? It made as much sense as being partially pregnant! And what to do with her?

I first thought to stuff the snake into an isolating container... But she was too large. And alive. And needed to occasionally eat to survive. But was also in a coma... What does one do with a partial familiar in a coma? Keep her with me? What if the camouflage got dispelled in battle and everyone saw her? A magical snake was far from horcrux-level toughness... except for basilisks... Hide her? But where? , Hogwarts was out of reach, the inferi cave had already been compromised, the Gaunt shack was dubious. I saw only one option: she would live in my basement, under the care of the house elf.

I charmed Nagini to appear a normal familiar, wrapped her around me like a thick limp hose and called on Rabastan.

"Rabastan, I found my snake. She is fine."

Then, I took out the statuette and turned it back into Snape's unconscious body. I couldn't very well take him into my Fidelius-protected house. He was the last servant I would tell where I lived.

"Snape has a strong intoxication with experimental potions and short-term memory loss. And he is under the Draught of the Living Death. Take him to your manor and heal him. Wake him up in eight hours. Don't let him leave - we have a meeting."

"Yes, my Lord."

I apparated back to my house. Placed Nagini into a conjured tank in a far corner of the basement, then took a long time covering her "cell" with protection charms. Then called the house elf and gave him instructions: don't let her die, feed her, keep her warm... I don't know how, look it up in magical zoology books! Then thought some more and charmed a looped recording of my voice: /Everything is fine. Wait here. Don't kill anyone. Master./ The spell had enough energy to play for several years - who knew when (or if) she would recover. And this was how I wasted half of my day... I'll focus on her when I get some free time.

It now was time to go to Lily and at least in broad strokes explain the role she must play.

Lily was already under polyjuice.

"Hello, Elena. Let me into your mind."

I didn't really need to ask, but since it helped my image... So, what did she have in mind today? Hatred of me, fear for Harry, fear for her sister, disgust with herself... Nothing interesting. Brewing potions and giving them to my house elf... Reading the recommended books... Dueling went down well, occlumency with a strain, theory of blood purity barely skimmed... Practicing school spells in the basement and continuing to attribute her increased power to stress... Nothing new.

"Elena, we are going to a Death Eater meeting. Your attendance is mandatory. I will introduce you. Do not try anything foolish. I forbid you to attack or kill my servants, but you may defend yourself with non-lethal force. If you really want, you may cruciate any male Death Eaters you dislike. I will let you know when you are allowed to go back home. You will continue studying and brewing. I will also find you a sparring partner to train you in dueling twice a week at the Lestranges' manor."

Her thoughts revealed her idea of Death Eater meetings: torture, executions and orgies. Technically true, but I would not be taking her to a raid or a disciplinary hearing, only to a formal staff meeting of the elites. Nothing more than discussions of plans and boasting about successes. As for orgies... There were some fans, like Mulciber, but no one dared bringing it up in the Lord's company (rude to enjoy something the boss can't!).

Lily paid no notice to my words about cruciating others... Too bad - she will most certainly want to...

"Put on your uniform."

She waved her wand - and before me stood the most ornately decorated Death Eater in history.

"Take off your mask and put it on your belt. The masks are not worn during meetings. Put on all the mental defense artifacts I made for you. Attach vials of polyjuice to your teeth and don't forget to renew your appearance every hour, or I will have to kill you."

I looked her over. She needed to impress Severus...

"Do you have makeup? Put it on."

More horror and confusion. And she had no makeup. Fine, I will transfigure some. It will last for a few days, then the house elf can go shopping.

"Take it and put it on," I said, giving her the items. My thoughts were spinning in a different direction.

Right now her defenses consisted of Protego and some generic anti-jinxes that wouldn't stop a fifth year... Introducing THAT as my student... I had to apply something potent, similar to my own style, something she could fuel herself...

Right. Covertly remove her "shields" out of the way. Put up my own: anti-scanning, concealment, mana shield, blocking of sounds and smells, shield of dust, kinetic shield, acid shield, dark reflection... I covered her with almost thirty defensive charms. They resembled mine but were much weaker. Everyone will see it as an obvious attempt to copy my style... Decent pureblood level, nothing preternaturally powerful. The charms will last about ten hours, feeding on her own energy, but I could take them off at any time...

And the most important part: the defenses had two gaps. One allowed to check her magical potential. I was sure everybody and his dog will try to scan her, and half of the Lord's power will foster a healthy sense of respect. By the same token, no one will guess she was Lily the mudblood - can't hide a potential this large...

Second, I left her defenses against mental intrusions unusually weak. No one would try to sneak into a strong witch's head - what if she had strong occlumency or artifacts? Except for one double spy...

"Done gussying up? Now listen to my plan: you arrive with me, sit down, and blend in. I will be in your mind, telling you what to say and do. Your role: a foreign pureblood who is against senseless murders and excessive cruelty - mudbloods must be used and muggles secretly swayed in the right direction. When speaking, repeat after me word for word. No trying any games or yelling "you are wrong," "I'm Lily." First of all, your vow will stop you, second, I will shut you up before you say anything stupid. I am planning to de-radicalize the organization, so if you play your part well, you will save more muggles than the entire Order of the Phoenix. Among the Death Eaters, pay attention to Nott - he is the strongest proponent of humane measures and your future ally."

And he was also rich. And a widower dissatisfied with my politics. It will be fun to watch the inner opposition searching for support among my favored.

Of course, Lily did not believe anything and was preparing for the worst.

"We are going to the Leatranges', your Mark will let you pass. Drink this calming draught, you will need it..." I got a bit too carried away with legilimency, not even letting her answer...

Via Lily's mark, I announced a meeting at the Lestranges' manor, then apparated us there. The mental link held. Wonderful.

"Where are we?" Lily asked.

Was she stupid or just pretending?

"The Lestrange Manor," I replied.

"It is open to apparition?"

"The Mark acts as a key. I already told you. Pay attention."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"And for your own sake, lose the familiarity."

"Of course, Master," she muttered.

So far Elena was not impressive... I might have to mentally order her to stay silent.

We walked into a large chamber that we used for most Inner Circle meetings. My servants were already waiting at the long table... Were they really servants? Most of them followed me for power, standing behind me as I carved them a path into a better future. If I disappeared, no one save for the Lestranges and Crouch Jr. would bother searching for me...

My place at the head of the table was empty. Twenty most trusted figures stood up in greeting. Tom loved playing royal court - perhaps the influence of childhood poverty. I was more concerned with productivity than presentation. Subordination was undeniably important, but why show signs of respect so excessively? Though, it was trivial... I'll make some changes later... Or just let it be, their manners were not hurting anything...

Lily was scurrying behind me. Where to put her? I hadn't thought about it beforehand. This was not first come - first serve, closeness to the Lord reflected status. On the right hand sat the "faithful": Bellatrix, the Lestranges, Crouch Jr... On the left, those who were useful but did not give personal allegiance to the Lord: Malfoy, Rosier, Mulciber, Dolohov, Snape... I inherited this court from Tom... As if I didn't have enough problems without changing seats! Maybe I should write a simple set of instructions on war etiquette? "The Walpurgis Knights Code"? What to do? Conjure her a chair next to mine? Bella would get offended. And Crouch Jr. And Lucius... Put her far away? Lack of the Lord's favor would paint her a target... Well, Tom occasionally shuffled his pieces, I'll give it a try.

"Rookwood, switch places with Nott," this indicated my bringing Nott back in favor. And Rookwood... he cared about results, not ephemeral status of closeness to the Master's body. "Avery, take Rowle's place," Rowle eyed the free seat next to Crouch Jr. "Rowle, to the end of the table!"

Dejected Rowle moved to the end and conjured himself a chair. The shuffle resulted in a free sixth seat on the right... Almost directly across from Snape.

"I bring to your attention the newest fighter for our cause, a powerful pureblood Russian witch Elena Ivanova," I announced, gesturing at Lily "From this day on, she is a part of the Inner Circle, and her place is sixth on my right. She is also my personal student."

Everything seemed right so far. I avoided moving anyone important, but her place directly behind Crouch Jr. implied loyalty. Her defenses looked like she carefully copied mine.

My audience barely reacted to the phrase "Russian pureblood." But at "personal student," they perked up and started communicating with subtle gestures. In magical sight, the air sparkled with nonverbal wandless scanning charms aimed at Lily. This was not intrigue or violation of rules, simply checking the new ally's potential. Some charms found the hole I left in her defenses. Who had the most talent with scanning charms? Rookwood, the Lestranges, Dolohov... And there, Dolohov was showing the sign for "reserve" with one hand and raising five fingers with the other to Karkaroff, all the while appearing like he was innocently scratching his left wrist. Karkaroff gestured "I don't believe" with one hand and "check" with the other.

It seemed I overestimated my servants, and Lily's power would have to be demonstrated more directly. As Lily was walking to her chair, I removed several shield layers that concealed her power. This had the effect of an exploded bomb: in magical sight appeared a sun surpassing Bella and Dolohov. Now everyone will be very polite around her.

Lily looked completely oblivious to the scene she caused... Did she even know how to use magical sight? Apparently not. Maybe I should add another enchantment to her glasses... But her stone face was even better, as if she did not care about the petty rat race. If only she knew she was being scanned by twenty maniacs...

Lily sat down and saw Severus. I never told her he was a Death Eater. Snape looked terrible: ashen, with signs of magical exhaustion, energy replenishing slowly and painfully, shields barely there. But Lily only saw her barely alive childhood friend. For a moment, she froze with a mix of surprise and contempt on her face. I was in her mind, ready to shut her mouth if she was about to say something stupid.

"Vot is he doing here?" she said without thinking. Atrocious accent, I did well.

She meant 'is he really a Death Eater?' But her apparent power coupled with Snape's pathetic attempts at shielding with less energy than a third year, her question was rightfully interpreted as 'why is this weakling here?'

"Severus is my loyal servant, Elena. He is a half-blood but more than sufficiently powerful. His pathetic appearance is a temporary result of a failed experimental potion."

At last, Lily put herself together. I restored her shields, as if she did it herself wordlessly and wandlessly, and began my speech.

"The glory and honor of the purebloods will not stand for the vile creatures..." and the rest of the standard Dark Lord script.

At the same time, I was scanning Lily and Severus. Lily held rather well. Snape managed to show me loyalty even in his condition. Amusing: he did not know I learned his secret, but he would soon change sides for the last time.

"The true sons and daughters of Slytherin..." I continued my sermon.

Should be enough. I have talked for over an hour - Lily bit through her vial with polyjuice. Now nobody but the absolute paranoid would suspect her of using it. And even if she did - what if she was just old and ugly? Or had facial scars?

"The Longbottoms and the Potters are dead. Now only Moody is left standing in our way. With his death, the Auror forces will crumble..." this was met with cries of approval.

Lily flinched at my mention of the Potters, but everyone was hailing the Lord and missed it. Except for Severus. I noticed a very cautious attempt at legillimency on Lily. Did Snape think she helped me kill the Potters? He was in for a disappointment trying to get around my amulets with his leftovers - unlike occlumency, attacking the mind required power.

"We will attack during the funeral, and the mudbloods will drown in their blood..." thanks to eidetic memory, I could read the speech while distracted.

...Snape got around Lily's amulet but was thrown out on contact with the glasses. Now he was making a second attempt...

I finally decided to speak to Lily within her mind.

" _Talk to me with your thoughts only. Were you honestly surprised to see your friend Snape here?"_

 _"He had a difficult childhood... No wonder he got involved with a bad crowd..."_

 _"Bad crowd is a dirty corner of Knockturn. This is the elite of the civil war. Snape is not the teenage boy you remember. He killed many people. He may have less deaths on his hands than Bellatrix and not match Dolohov's battle skills, but he has earned the kiss many times over."_

And I showed her. Snape throwing a Reducto into a crowd, blowing muggles to pieces. Snape brewing potions from parts of still living humans. Torturing captives with Cruciatus... Putting down a maimed captive with the killing curse... In reality nothing special, everyday Death Eater jobs... Many in this room were much worse. Snape was pragmatic and never needlessly cruel.

" _Enough!"_

 _"As you wish. Everything you saw is enough to become a Death Eater. But not to earn a place in the Inner Circle. Do you want to know how he got here?"_

 _"No."_

 _"I will still show you, to rid you of delusions,"_ and I showed her Snape bringing me the prophecy... " _You lost everything because of him. I would have never come after you if it weren't for the prophecy. You would not be a Death Eater, and your husband would still be alive..."_

On the outside, I was still giving my speech. Lily stared into nothing with glassy eyes, her mind far away. Some Death Eaters were listening like the Lestranges (strange... weren't they the ones who wrote this speech?). Others, like Selwyn, were duly pretending to listen. And one double agent almost got around all the amulets...

What if I combined the pictures? One the left, describe and show Snape's kills, on the right show Snape telling me about the prophecy... She should have turned hysterical a while ago, but the calming draught was preventing her from crying and fainting. The vows would stop her from attacking me. And I forbade attacking others except in self defense. No one was attacking her... Except Snape, mentally. And with the suggestions I gave, she could only attack with one spell...

"Crucio!" Lily's unexpected Cruciatus toppled Snape. He yelped and started twitching. Lily had zero experience but more than enough will to make him suffer...

I stopped talking. Everyone looked at Lily like she had the plague - a torture curse without orders? And not on trash but on an ally...

"Stop, Elena," I said with a hint of amusement.

She startled, suddenly frightened of what she just did.

 _"You now deserve life in Azkaban, Lily,"_ I said in her mind.

"Severus, it was very rude of you to try reading my student's mind. Crucio!"

Now everything was in order. Not an uppity bitch, but a righteous servant defending from an idiot who tried break into her mind for her Lord's secrets.

I began wrapping up my spiel about blood purity.

"We have an upcoming operation in France, eradicating a squad of mercenaries named "Eagle Eye." Dolohov, take care of recruiting for the first wave. Our enemies sit on an average source and will be difficult to dislodge. We also must not forget about mudbloods. In two weeks we will attack one of the magic schools for the lowest kind..."

All in all, Tom was not so hopeless: he managed to unite the majority of purebloods under his banner, even if he had to intimidate the neutrals. As for genocide... The wizarding world did not evolve that fast - they still only followed those they respected, and to be respected you either had to boast a perfect lineage or kill a ton of people... Let's consider past politics the stick and begin bringing out the carrot.

"My loyal folowers, what other goals should we add to expedite our victory?"

Suggestions poured in: attacking the Ministry, Hogwarts and Hogsmead, capturing muggles, targets for new terrorist acts...

"Let us give word to our newest member," I said.

 _"Lily, repeat after me word for word,_ " I ordered in her mind.

"Attacking Hogsmeade makes no sense, my Lord," said Elena slowly, to compensate for her accent. "It can result in casualties among neutral purebloods, setting them against us. Attacks on Hogwarts, the Ministry or Stonehenge are equally senseless: even if we seize one source, we will not be able to hold on to it. And we don't have enough forces to take over two at the same time," most glowered at that. In reality, we would be very hard pressed to capture even one... "And the targets I heard are not very original. Lastly, the "kill mudbloods, subjugate muggles" strategy is too Gryffindor."

While her audience was receptive to choosing realistic targets, accusing the Death Eaters of being Gryffindor had a freeze-frame effect. Anyone else would probably already receive Crucios from half of the room... But no one wanted to be the instigator - theoretically, a witch of her power would be able to kill the first few attackers. Plus, she was the Dark Lord's student, his to punish. And if she was his student, he had to at least be aware of her views.

Twenty pairs of eyes snapped over to the Lord. But the Lord held off the Crucios and stayed silent. Clearly, a discussion was encouraged.

"And how exactly are we Gryffindor?" asked Rosier with a condescending sneer.

"You limit yourselves," Lily repeated my words, "Mudbloods must be called muggleborn and used to further our goals."

"We will not bow before mudbloods!" sputtered Rosier.

"First off, there are mudbloods who can offer something to the purebloods. If they are willing to do dirty and dangerous work, they should be welcomed. For instance, some magical creatures go berserk near magical shields and leave hard to treat wounds. But someone must process them into ingredients. I don't plan on risking my skin, let the mudbloods do it! If we don't kill them, we will have workers and servants. House elves are not appropriate for everything. For example, controlling muggles. Do you know what to order them? I don't. Muggleborns will control muggles, and we will control the muggleborns. Second, I am not suggesting we love mudbloods, only stop screaming on every corner that we hate them. I hope you understand the difference? Cease antagonizing everyone for no reason! Don't announce your hatred to potential enemies! Especially not before the conflict of interest even arises, before you might need to deceive them! It is a level of idiocy worthy of Gryffindor!"

Very few risked arguing with ultra-radical Rosier... He was slippery like an eel, tenacious like an elephant and proud like a hippogriff. A very dangerous combination... People like him were ready to give everything for their goal, sparing neither themselves nor anyone else in the process. He was a great wizard to have around, unless you stood in the way of his sacred duty. In that case - sorry, nothing personal.

Rosier reddened with ruthlessly suppresses rage and kept glancing at me. Angering the Lord's new favorite in his presence... Especially when the favorite herself shined with magic twice as strong as Rosier and, as newspapers claimed, killed five Aurors and two Orderers by herself... He was not an idiot... But he will not forgive... He was one of the very first, went to school with Riddle and remembered how everything began!

"Mudbloods are stealing our positions!" said Rosier, grinding his teeth.

"If a pureblood with inherited magical power, supported by a family source, knowledge and fortune loses to a mudblood, the he is a squib that deserves to be recycled into fertilizer." Lily replied.

"And muggles?"

The air could be cut with a knife. All the radicals' eyes were glued to Lily. I had to think of something sufficiently degrading but minimally lethal...

"If muggles don't know about us, they can't harm us. Open warfare became unfeasible after their invention of nuclear weapons. But muggles are extremely divided, making it easy for us to exploit them with bribes, Imperios, political intrigue... We will still take our material - a city the size of London can support several avid fans of human sacrifice without attracting attention. It is in our best interest that muggle population stays high and their deaths look natural."

"And how will we do that?"

"Reining ourselves in will be hard, but I believe it will be worth the effort. For now, we can begin with small steps: replace "mudblood" with "muggleborn" in public conversations, stop rubbing their noses in their inferiority and not lash out at anyone without a valid reason, outside sanctioned raids and material gathering."

"And personal reputation?"

"Personal reputation comes in two parts: for allies and for everyone else. And I'm clearly doing so well with the latter that even the allegedly clever allies don't believe me. Does this answer your question, honorable Mr. Rosier?"

"Still, the reputation among our allies..."

"Any pureblood who is chronically unable to understand the point of pretense should be turned into fertilizer!"

It looked like I gave Rosier enough hints on the "fecal" subject and how exactly she saw him... He was rhythmically squeezing his wand handle through the holster. Nott was watching Elena with unhidden approval. Everyone else was waiting on my decision with carefully neutral faces. Time to intervene. Lily said enough, and it would not do to drive Rosier over the edge. She was no match for anyone here, and defending her would mean admitting her and my own weakness.

"Your opinions have been heard, my loyal followers. Rosier, was it not you who argued that we are spilling too much magical blood? Elena said that even scum can be useful. And muggles... You kill them off with a magical plague, then what? Who are you going to use for sacrifice, your own children? We will not destroy our own resources. We will control and guide them from the shadows as we see fit. Let them think they are free, have them take care of their own survival needs and keep breeding while we spend our time on more worthy, magical pursuits."

"What does our guest think about the organization's combat potential?" politely asked Karkaroff.

"The combat potential is fairly large," Lily answered. "But its fixation on Dark magic and illegal acts is excessive. Killing with simple lightning instead of Avadas would not attract the Aurors. Or even better, use a heart attack or telekinesis. Someone fell from a balcony, nothing to do with us."

"Maybe we should start using muggle weapons, too?" mocked Yaxley.

"If the mission calls for it, we should. For example, in heavily monitored areas. But I recommend simply learning more non-dark and non-lethal charms in case the situation calls for subterfuge or capturing the target alive with minimal losses."

At long last, someone blurted out a comment about Ollivander and Aurors. But I personally put up Lily's shields, including the sound filter. The remark did not reach her.

"It happened, and it was trivial. I have said everything I wanted," Lily repeated after me, unknowingly confessing to killing seven people.

"The discussion is over," I declared.

" _Good job, Lily. You just saved people from a magical plague and a Dementor invasion."_

All lies, we had no plans for such radical actions. Gaining control of Magical England came first, then cleansing the opposition, then taking control of muggles through their leaders. Not much has changed: muggles still a resource, only protected from recreational mass murder. Mudbloods who refused support us still die (let them be neutral if they want- we'll set up a reservation). But Lily had to get an impression she bravely stood in the way of Rosier and his genocide.

I engineered this game to slightly correct our organization's course. Neither I nor the Lestranges could be the initiators. But if someone introduced an idea from below, I put it on the table for discussion, and others voiced their support... A completely different matter! I was a leader of aristocrats, not queen of a bee colony: they must believe I acted in their interests.

So now I was endorsing Elena's ideas. The debates started. The Lestranges and Crouch Jr. immediately took my side. Malfoy went with the tide, that is, with me. He was followed by his "quasi-vassals" Crabbe and Goyle. Rookwood and Dolohov had no opinion on the matter and supported me because I was the leader. Snape was under Dumbledore's orders to support me in everything. Lily, or rather Elena, supported as the initiator. The only one who joined our side sincerely was Nott.

The opposition consisted of furious Rosier, Rowle, Avery, Yaxley, the Carrows, Mulciber and Selwyn.

How unfortunate that Lily got Rosier as an enemy. But better her than me. She spent almost all of her time under the Fidelius anyway.

Thus, the program has been fulfilled. I made it clear that we will not wage a war on muggles after the victory. Dark wizards and murderers will always exist, and I will have to lead them. If fate would have it otherwise, I wouldn't have gotten involved with this, but with my background... Why was Lily staring at me like that? Oh... I accidentally transmitted my last thoughts into her mind...

 _"You will keep silent about it, understood? The Dark Lord is happy to destroy muggles, he is just lazy."_

Lily nodded. Wonderful. I already told her I was not interested in blood purity, which was true. I was simply looking for a comfortable life. Unlike Rosier, I had no plans to kill for sport. If I used a human in a ritual, it was because it could not be substituted with an animal. Killing for no reason made as much sense as scooping out a bathtub full of water with a spoon. I was not like Riddle.

Formally, not much will change: our goal was still seizing power, our weapon was still terror. Only now terror was to be stopped once the goal is achieved. This way, we will eventually become a normal... well, an almost normal government.

"On to the topic of our upcoming operation in France," I said, summoning the plans I developed with the Lestranges. Papers covered the entire table...

"You will now review the plans. Everybody here is involved. Snape, Elena would like to talk to you about potions in the small parlor. Rodolphus, I need to speak to you in private."

I already spent several days mulling over this plan. Let Edward explain it to the others and listen to suggestions. Rosier and Mulciber were good tacticians and would offer some improvements. Rabastan handled all the record keeping, giving out assignments and everything else on the bureaucratic end of things. My presence here was no longer necessary, and still I had a performance to finish.

Severus and Lily went out through one door, Rodolphus and I through the other. I took him to the library and cast a privacy ward.

"Rodolphus, you and I were at the library, discussing decoy targets. Understood?"

"Of course, my Lord."

If I ordered, he would even attest I was never at the meeting without batting an eye...

Under invisibility charms, I apparated to the parlor just as Snape and Lily were walking in. Wandlessly and wordlessly, I put up a privacy ward as if she did it. Severus eyed "Elena" wearily.

I reestablished contact with Lily's mind.

 _"Do you remember the memories I showed you? Talk to him, find out whether they are true."_

She froze, hoping against all hope that I lied and Severus was not so bad. He took it as his cue to speak.

"I noticed your accent. May I ask how long you have been living here?"

Was he really interested or merely collecting information for Dumbledore?

"In England, five years."

"I understand it must have been difficult to get used to local magic."

"There were problems, but I got over them."

"I can't help but be curious how you managed to catch the Dark Lord's eye and receive such an honor."

"Honor?" Lily didn't understand.

"To be granted a place among his most faithful."

"The Dark Lord noticed my potential and made me his student."

"It is... unusual."

"He told me about you," Lily finally seized the initiative.

"And what did the Dark Lord say about me?"

Even now, his occlumency was perfect. I could block, but to transmit disinformation to a superior enemy so flawlessly...

"He told me how you earned your place in the Inner Circle. Devotion to the Dark Lord is your most important priority, isn't it?"

"Of course."

"For example, the Glasgow job? Blowing up a bus full of people with a single spell."

"Yes, what of it?"

Snape radiated satisfaction, both on his face and in his thoughts. What else was he going to show to the Lord's student who insulted Rosier and threw Crucios left and right? Doubt? I knew that job weighed on his conscience since the inferi cave incident. But in Lily's eyes he was a monster...

"And cutting out live people's organs for potions?"

"My loyalty to the Dark Lord knows no bounds."

"Your father was a muggle."

"I hope he was butchered for potion ingredients. This shameful stain on my biography will be washed away by my loyal service!"

"What was that potion you were brewing from the muggles?"

While Snape was reading a lecture, Lily tried to calm down.

" _You are using me! I am not going to cruciate him again."_

 _"We all use someone, it is how life works. But I am paying you with knowledge and power. When Dumbledore was using you.._." I described to her the Rite of Sacrifice combined with blood protection, " _He was counting on you sacrificing yourself to save Harry, so I would die trying to kill him."_

Actually, I just now recalled the ritual I was researching for my plan to get rid of Rodolphus. There was a poetic beauty to it: a loyal servant dies protecting his Master; he could have escaped, but the hole in the anti-apparition ward would only let one of them out... He continues serving the Master even in death, his sacrifice providing protection from harmful magic. The Master brings the heroic servant's body to his father and consoles his beautiful grieving widow...

I decided not to use it yet, but the Rite of Sacrifice made for an incredibly plausible version of that Samhain night, if the Lord killed Lily despite her screams "kill me instead!" The danger was especially great considering the power of Samhain and the Lord's fragile soul... But not even Dumbledore could have planned something so intricate.

" _It's not true!"_ exclaimed Lily, fortunately in thoughts only.

 _"I uncovered Albus' plan, and it is one of the reasons you are still alive. And don't tell me I am evil - so far you are the only one throwing around Crucios."_

 _"You provoked me!"_

 _"I merely showed you the truth. You decided to attack Snape yourself."_

Of course I calculated her reaction. But good luck proving it...

" _Severus could not have told you about the prophecy!"_

 _"He did. He overheard it in a tavern belonging to Albus' brother and never even got obliviated. Ask him yourself."_

"The Dark Lord told me you broght him the prophecy? You heard it at a bar belonging to Albus' brother? And he didn't erase your memory?"

"I am awed by your knowledge. Yes, that is how it happened."

Actually, it wasn't that simple. Bringing unvetted people into Hogwarts during war was foolish. They could scan the defenses, steal something, leave a cursed artifact like I once did... It made sense to conduct interviews on a friendly-neutral territory. And obliviating a strong occlument.. It would be easily found out, the crime possibly costing Albus his seat.

But the only thing that mattered was presenting it in the right light... And doubts already started to creep into the back of Lily's mind...

" _Do you want to know another reason you are here?"_

 _"No, they are all lies."_

 _"I will show you. And you will ask Snape about it."_

I showed her the crown jewel of my collection: " _Please, kill Potter and his son, but leave the woman alive for me!_ " Snape meant 'spare Lily,' but it sounded like he specifically wanted me to kill everyone else.

Naturally, Lily started to fume. Snape watched her with rising trepidation.

"The Lord said you asked him to leave the girl, Lily, for you?"

That was it, Snape was a dead man... I will have to act very quickly when the killing curses start flying.

"Yes," answered Snape, confused about how this was relevant.

"Crucio!" Lily's shrill was deafening.

Oh, come on, I only hinted that I will gift you to the man who asked for your husband and son to be murdered, while calling you a mudblood... If he asked to spare a muggleborn, the Lord would definitely kill her. He gave you a chance: Death Eaters could not love mudbloods, but their sex lives were private business as long as it didn't impact work. Though, how could she know that? Snape looked so sincere...

" _Lily, enough Crucios for today. Don't you see he is in bad shape?"_

"Why?" whined Snape.

Attacking the Lord's student in the house of his closest servants was stupid even without the difference in power. So the double spy continued his act.

" _Weasel out of this however you want,"_ I told Lily.

"Pieces of your mudblood stained my favorite robe!" Lily screamed the first thing that came to her mind.

Oh, that was the wrong thing to say...

"You killed her?"

"I tortured her over and over until she was a drooling vegetable, then blew her up while the Lord was taking her baby apart for ingredients!" - Lily burst into insane laughter, eerily like the Lord's.

What happened?! The calming draught failed? Side effect of the Cruciatus on the mind? This fast? Or simply too much stress? Or everything at once? Hopefully this was a short-term effect...

Snape showed no emotion. But I could easily guess the thoughts running through his head. He loved Lily. And hated two people: Black for his betrayal and the Lord for Lily's murder. He was factually wrong on both accounts, but from his perspective... Black was already dead. The Lord was too strong for him to kill. But the insane girl... She was clearly not prepared for an attack and could not be as dangerous as the Lord.. One Avada, and she was dead... Then he would try to run or tell the Lord she was about to torture him into insanity and he acted in self-defense... He already sported evidence of the Cruciatus, and he could fabricate an appropriate memory...

I was waiting for the attack, carefully watching them both.

In a flash, Snape snatched out his wand, pointed it at Lily and bellowed "Avada Kedavra!" It was his only choice: he had no strength to break her defenses, and a fight would alert everyone. I was sure he lamented not being able to torture Elena before killing her.

But I wasn't standing there for nothing. Lily's shields immediately dissipated, she flew up to the ceiling, and got hit by stunning and paralyzing charms. Snape received a shield penetrator, a disarmer and a couple stunners.

Now, to reenervate Lily. She was trembling.

"He tried to kill you. I saved you. You acted very recklessly. Do you want to kill him?"

I had to hear her say it.

"No. Why did he try to kill me? What did you do to him?"

Now the shock started settling in. She was horrified with her actions and didn't want to kill anyone. Not even Snape. I will help her make the right choice.

"I am going to show you one very interesting memory," this time I showed Snape betraying me and begging Albus to save Lily. And his vows to avenge her.

"It appears he truly loves you. But now he has no reason to serve Dumbledore."

"You want to use me to blackmail him?"

Yes. Only I will frame it more elegantly.

"Albus would never bother with the Potters if it weren't necessary to get Snape on his side. In case you haven't noticed, we are at war. You and Harry will motivate Snape to not betray me again. Or would you rather all die right now?"

Silence. Good.

"I will reveal you to Snape. I am very busy, so he will teach you dueling and check your other progress. Do not tell him anything about me. He will not be asking questions after I have a chat with him. Your personal life or lack of it is none of my business- I will never force you to sleep with anyone."

"Did you know everything from the start?"

"No. Snape loved you so much that he betrayed me once he learned you match the prophecy. When you said you killed Lily, I was able to get into his mind," - convincing enough...

"I agree," said Lily.

I suddenly felt out of place. Tom, why did you have to go and start a war? Why not manipulation? Was it really so hard? A good Dark Lord never lets anyone know he is a Dark Lord... I got lost in a daydream...

* * *

All Tom had to do was greet Albus at the orphanage a little differently:

**"Sometimes, I only have a few pieces of candy, and a lot of people see me, and I don't want to just give a few people things because that might make the others feel left out," Tom tried, "except when I look down again, there were a lot more than there were before. And at first I thought I was just counting wrong, but then it happened again and again, like in those fairy tales with the pot of gold that never runs out."

"Go on," Professor Dumbledore encouraged.

"And another time we were supposed to clean our rooms for the government inspectors, and even though my room is normally clean I had some things lying around that day. And then all of a sudden they went back to their spots. I figured out how to do that one again, too. So now everything I have is always clean. I'd help my friends clean up, too, but I was afraid of hurting their feelings, because I know they'd ask me how, and I wouldn't be able to tell them, and then they'd get mad because they thought I was hiding something and wasn't sharing…"

"Tom, why aren't you looking me in the eyes?"

"I'm shy, Professor..."

After the sorting:

"Tom, why are you in Slytherin?" asked Albus.

"I want to put an end to all wars!" beamed Tom.

After Hogwarts:

"Professor, can I teach Muggle Studies? I want people to love each other."

"You are a good person, Tom. How would you like to be my protege? The world is a cruel place, let me teach you Defense against the Dark Arts... Here is how I defeated Grindelwald..."

And by now I was the Headmaster of an elite school, gathering my followers for tea...

* * *

But I had to get back to reality. The reality where I instead had a war with murky prospects...

"Excellent. Now drink this polyjuice antidote, play a statue and don't do anything stupid."

I took Snape's wand. Levitated him into the chair. Put up basic wards around them so they wouldn't kill each other. Reenervated Snape.

"You disappointed me, Snape," - I began.

"Lily..." he mumbled. And where was the acknowledgement of your Master?!

"She is alive, just as you asked. Not under the Imperius or Confundus. Here is your wand, see for yourself."

"My Lord, I'm out of energy..."

"You still have blood," I reminded, transfiguring him a knife.

I took down the wards. Snape cut his arm and drew diagnostic spells with his wand. His blood diffused in the air, the spells confirming everything I said. I recognized a test for traces of Dark magic, the Cruciatus, and even something new.

"Are you satisfied? Certain of her identity?"

"Yes, my Lord," he gushed with loyalty and enthusiasm.

"Test her again. Include the test for polyjuice."

Snape did. Now he should have no doubts.

"Lily, you will see letters appear in the air before you. Read the addendum to your vow."

"I vow to die within one week of Lord Voldemort's death, disembodiment or disappearance. If Lord Voldemort is captured or taken under control by any means, I vow to either free him within a week or die. If..."

Lily's old vow had a flaw: if someone killed me, she was under no obligation to die or avenge me. But I was going to fix it...

Snape handled everything stoically.

I conjured a snake.

"The snake will take you to the apparition platform. Apparate straight home. I will call on you if I need you. If you run into any problems, call me through your mark," - I ordered Lily.

I was alone with Snape. He knew me for over a year, so there was no point in playing the nice guy.

"Crucio! You disappointed me, potions master. I expected you to realize who I brought to the meeting."

"Why does she look so strong, my Lord?"

"I gave her the power of a pureblood. And you will pay for it."

"I'm listening, milord."

"Crucio!" I cursed him again. Snape may give no outward signs, but he was certainly planning on telling Albus how out of character I acted.

"This is for almost killing her! I didn't waste my time for nothing! My servant asked me, and I decided to give him a gift. I gave his woman a house, a house elf, a source, books, but this brainless mudblood even forgets to call me Lord! Crucio! I increased her power fivefold! But she refuses to believe it and cannot use it! Crucio! This is a disgrace!"

"My..Lord, maybe you could give her to me?" Snape was stammering from the curses.

"And where will you hide her? In your quarters at Hogwarts? Or is your home at Spinner's end so defended that no one will notice her there? You have the Prince source in your basement? Or maybe you should tell everyone that the Lord heals magic defects in his spare time and gives gifts to mudbloods? Crucio!"

Snape looked miserable, either too afraid or unable to get off the floor.

"You betrayed me to Dumbledore twice!"

"Master," tried Snape.

"Crucio!"

"My Lord, I don't understand..."

Instead of an answer, I conjured a dozen life-size images all around the room. In some, Snape gave Dumbledore information, in others he sabotaged raids. The front two showed him betraying me once he learned I was after the Potters and vowing to avenge Lily.

"Your occlumency is good, but my legilimency is better. I spared your girl, provided her with accommodations, gave her power, but you betrayed me again! Crucio! And now, Snape, you will think of how to pay for your sins, or else your life will be long and painful. Same as your girlfriend's. Only she will die sooner. A hint: new vows to me. We work together to nullify and circumvent your old vows. You are no longer a double spy but MY spy. Understood?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"We will begin immediately after the meeting. Now we are going back to the others to discuss battle plans. I am going with Rodolphus, you on your own. You were rude to the girl, she hit you with couple Crucios and went home."

"Yes, my Lord."

I went back to Rodolphus, and we reentered the meeting together. The discussion was at its peak. I gestured them to continue and sat down to think.

After few minutes, Snape limped in.

"My Lord, you student took offense to something I said, subjected me to multiple crucios, then left to work on your orders."

He looked utterly wretched from the Cruciatus coupled with blood loss.

"My Lord, your student is insolent," said Rosier.

"I teach her magic, not manners, my friend. However, if you think she was out of line, you can challenge her to a duel."

"Will she accept, milord?"

"I am certain she will. You may set up the time and place with me. Right now she is working on a project for me, but you can have your duel closer to the end of the month. Rodolphus will be her second, Snape will be yours.

Of course, pitting Lily against the eldest Rosier was the same as pitting a turkey against an eagle: the turkey was bigger, but her chances... She would have to take off all pre-made defenses, making it extremely difficult to cheat and help her. And even if by some miracle I could get her into the arena with my shields, Rosier was no Knockturn trash and would sooner or later break them. And no shield would save her from the Unforgivables.

Therefore, I will do it myself under polyjuice or masking charms. In a fair fight, checking the identities was the seconds' job... But Rodolphus was mine, and Snape would do anything to protect Lily.

Snape's loathing of Elena gave this situation a special oomph. She had already humiliated and tortured him for being the only half-blood. And a potions master could sneak in a few surprises on contact with an unshielded enemy during the inspection... Surely no one was expecting a fair fight? So, Snape made an ideal second against Elena Ivanova: he had both motive and ability to facilitate her loss. And I will not be attending to prevent any suspicions of helping my student.

"Do you not value her life, my Lord?"

"I have taught her for over a year. Enough babysitting. If she is worthy, she will manage to survive, if not - good riddance. As for rules: 15th paragraph, no killing curses or Fiendfyre - we don't need casualties among spectators. No potions or artifacts. Platform the size of a standard quidditch field. Everyone in the Inner Circle may attend. Make bets if you want. My presence will not be necessary, I will watch the memories later. And Rosier, don't underestimate her. She is very strong for her age."

To be truthful, at 21 only Tom could beat 57 year old Rosier. First, 57 was nothing for a wizard. Second, any reasonably strong spells could only be attempted at around 17 or 13-14 for exceptionally gifted; otherwise you would be left a disabled squib. Reaching a mastery in a single field took another 5-10 years of hard work and talent, and most gave up along the way.

Considering her age and power, the girl could be an expert in one field or above average in two. Rosier was a master of Dark magic and almost as good with battle and blood, with over thirty years of experience. So, in theory, the girl's power should be more than overshadowed by Rosier's experience. He too would have no problem killing a squad of non-elite Aurors.

"Thank you for the chance to prove myself, my Lord."

Wonderful. I'll make a show of beating him up, and he will thank me for it... It would also explain why my student was never around: studying and practicing day and night... And why she was so twitchy and threw around Crucios like candy - too much time around me... Maybe I should spread rumors that she was my daughter?

But all that could wait. We must get back to the operation plan... Our losses would have been enormous, but fortunately I found a way to breach their defenses. A couple sacks of expensive items convinced one of the mercenaries to give us the blueprints of their building and defense systems; he will even deactivate a couple... So the mercenaries were in for a surprise... And the only heroic survivor will leave France after the slaughter...

The discussion came to an end. I dismissed everyone except the two seconds. We will discuss the duel, then Snape and I will privately go through his vows...

* * *

* _*Quoted from The Evil Overlord_ _List by_ _boomvroomshroom_ _(/s/10972919/), a hilarious but unfortunately abandoned HP fic with a similar premise._


	13. Aftermath: The Kindest Dark Lord

I sat with Rodolphus and Snape at the now empty table and activated the manor's anti-eavesdropping charms. I was keyed in to some of their defenses and had added my own over the years.

"My student got herself into a duel with Rosier. She did it prematurely. Her primary skills do not lie in fighting. She is very unlikely to win or even survive." - I explained, mainly to Rodolphus. - "Which is why we will arrange for an impostor to fight in her place. You, as the seconds, will ensure she passes the pre-duel inspection. Rodolphus, tell the rest of your family to prepare the dueling rink. It must have strong wards to protect the spectators: Rosier will most likely go all out. Rodolphus, Severus: this is to be kept secret from everyone, even the other Lestranges."

"If I may ask, my Lord, who will fight in her place?" asked Snape.

"I will. It is the only way to avoid either of their deaths. You task is to think of the best way to conduct the inspection and to mask my power so it appears no greater than Elena's. You will also need to testify under veritaserum before the fight to alleviate any doubts that it is truly Elena. Think over the questions' wording.

So far, my plan is to waste half of my reserve right before the duel, drink incompatible potions to slow the regeneration, and fool the polyjuice test under the Polymorph charm that you, the seconds, will ignore. Then a house elf will transfer a vial of polyjuice into my tooth crown."

Snape was visibly puzzled.

"My Lord, masking you will be extremely difficult. Polyjuice does not work on you and..."

"I am a great wizard, Severus. If necessary, I can make polyjuice work. I will do my best to defeat Rosier by the smallest possible margin, allowing him to wound me. Severus, Rosier will probably ask you to provide him with potions or to plant some on Elena. Keep me informed. Also, this duel might not completely cool off some hot heads. Make a note of who leaves disgruntled."

Snape looked as emotionless as always. But I knew he approved. Rodolphus did not quite understand the reason for this charade, but since the Lord ordered...

"You have one week to prepare your suggestions. If there are no more questions, then you, Rodolphus, are free to go."

I was left alone with Snape.

"My Lord, words cannot express the depths of my remorse..." he began.

"Severus, my slippery friend. Remove your defenses. Everything. And do not attempt to mislead me, else I will summon your girlfriend for target practice. Or let her fight Rosier... Do you think it will take him one spell or two to kill her? Or perhaps he will decide to leave her crippled? I don't need to explain you the consequences of Dark magic wounds... What will you tell Lily then? Speak your mind. Nothing you think can offend me. I roam in people's heads every day and rarely see anything pleasant."

Of course, blackmail and threats were not the best style. But the Lord could not go soft on a twice traitor. This way, I blow off steam, then his newfound loyalty will calm me down... And my humane treatment of Lily... All for you, Severus. Behave and the girl will be comfortable, or else...

Time to take the first steps towards whitewashing myself and smearing Albus. Snape and Lily will be my first test subjects. And then, after smoothing out the rough parts and fabricating evidence, I will make a public release... A custom-tailored fairy tale for everyone.

I scanned Snape's occlumency shields. He removed everything. Or I could have sworn that he did. But there was no memory of him pledging to Albus... And then he truly bared his mind.

... A maelstrom of emotions. Regret that he caused Lily so much suffering. Joy that she is alive and well. Fear of the snake-faced monster...

He evidently felt me touch his thoughts of my appearance because he braced for a Crucio.

"Severus, I am not interested in your opinions. Only your deeds. And you are being unfair: I saved the girl from a civil war, where she could have been killled at any moment. I increased her power, and she can now become one of us. You will be her private tutor. If you convince her to go further - a date, or even marriage- I will not stop you. Just keep everything within the walls of the Lestranges' manor. Is this not better than the life you had before? I killed her husband, cleared out a path for you. I did not even torture her.

But instead of gratitude, you wish me death. First of all, I am immortal. If someone destroys my body, I will come back. And after several years of disembodied isolation, I am going to be very angry. Second, if I disappear, your girl will die, so you are now permanently and irrevocably on my side. Do you understand?"

Not exactly true. I was not immortal yet. And vows could be removed. Magic was a never-ending arms race: someone created a shield, someone else a way to breach it; someone created a vow, someone a way to undo it.

In simple terms, a vow worked by integrating a conditional program into one's energy field. When the condition was violated, it activated the consequence - usually pain or death. Vows came in different levels of difficulty and reliability. The popular Unbreakable Vow was simple and reliable but easily nullified with the binder's death. The vow the Lestranges and Lily gave me was probably the closest to ironclad. A tinkerer like Rookwood or a fan of ritual sacrifice like Rosier might be able to undo it, but it would take years of research.

The vow she pledged later was a level below, the strongest of the standard kind. Hypothetically, any rune or ritual master could remove it in few months... But I will regularly monitor the vow's structure and make sure Lily has no contact with any rune or ritual masters. And Lily herself never even studied runes in Hogwarts...

"Severus, you came to me too late. You had father issues? I am not Albus and would have gladly corrected his mind. Sick mother slowly withering away? Clearly a deathbed or family curse. I am a curse master and could have lifted it. You want money? You will receive it. You want to brew potions? I will give you a lab and ingredients. You want power? I can make you the Headmaster of Hogwarts, the Head of the Potioneers Guild, a top government official. You want to blow off steam? Take your wand and everyone without the Mark is your prey. Love Lily? I already killed her husband and isolated her - she is all yours. I'd advise a love potion, but it is your choice."

Severus met my words with extreme skepticism.

"You can receive all that once we win. You will not need to hide your rewards and Lily in a world where Dumbledore is dead and my word is law. We have a common goal: victory. There will be enough trophies for everyone."

His thoughts fluttered chaotically.

"Now imagine what would happen if by some twist of fate I run into the entire DMLE, Moody and Albus. Yes, only Albus will survive. And I will lose my body. But I will come back, let's say after ten years. What will I see? Lily is dead from her vow. If not, dead from the kiss - a traitor, the Lord's protege, tortured muggles and wizards alike. Severus Snape is dead or rotting in Azkaban. Or maybe he got incredibly lucky, and Albus rescued him to turn him into a dark wizard scarecrow for the students. He lives without Lily, in poverty, drinking himself to death in Spinner's End just like his father. Which future are you going to choose, Snape?"

I had yet to decide whether Snape and Lily will survive the war... Snape worried me with his occlumency, Lily with her potential and defiance.

"Severus, I know you doubt my immortality. Do not try to hide anything from me. Now watch me with magical sight."

I stealthily took out my ring from the isolating container, blending it with the illusion of my appearance.

Snape watched. He saw a monster covered with an illusion. And suddenly there was an aura bursting through... Partially living, partially dead, distinctly inhuman. Malicious, bizarre... He suspected an artifact, but no artifact could emit _that_. And the Lord has always maintained that he is not human. Of course he was hiding his exact potential...

"I choose the first future, my Lord."

I put the ring back into its container.

"Excellent, Severus. But pray tell me, what did you do to deserve these rewards? No, you must be punished for your treason. You were amusing at first, made me happy with your service. You are so much like me: a half-blood with father problems, drawn to Dark and mental magic... I was most impressed by your occlumency, second only to mine."

All lies, of course. He was a nobody. And his occlumency turned out to be unrivaled.

"I was even considering making you my protege. But while I was thinking, you made the most spectacular, idiotic blunder and asked Albus to save Lily. For my protege, I would have brought her on a silver platter already in a wedding dress. I planned to make my protege stronger, and his bride along with him -not to the same extent but enough to make her a rightful pureblood.

But what happened instead? During one the meetings, I easily got into your mind and saw your betrayal. My protege cannot be a traitor. You destroyed your own brilliant future! Even still, I didn't consider you completely hopeless and planned to convince you to see reason after showing you Lily. And then you came back to me after Samhain... For all my trouble with Lily - I even postponed the meeting to fake her death, help her settle, breathe new power into her!- you betray me for the second time! Are you an idiot, Snape?! If I let you out of my sight again, are you going to come back under a vow to kill me? I was angry and practiced some experimental torture curses on you. Your magical exhaustion will last at least a week, but it will eventually pass. You nearly lost your mind, so I very thoroughly erased your memory. Don't try to remember or you will end up a permanent resident of St. Mungo's mental ward."

Snape remained silent. He did not believe the Lord wanted to make him a protege, to save Lily for him... But how else could he explain what he saw: healthy Lily glowing with magic, the Lord planning to duel his old friend and favorite? And the Lord's words explained everything...

I had to continue lying... Within reason. No tales of light and kindness, saving mudbloods and conjuring candy for muggles - Snape was not a fool. He wanted greatness, so I would offer it to him. Most Slytherins fell for it.

"You know, Severus, I can hardly blame you for being a blind fool. Almost everyone is fooled by Albus. He never planned to save the Potters. This is his MO: get the payment in advance, bind with vows, then shrug and say "not my fault." He orchestrated the deaths of the Potters and the Longbottoms himself. After their deaths, their money and property would go to him, and he would present them as martyrs of the Light. And your "accidentally" overhearing the prophecy... Dumbledore calculated everything. He and I are very alike in our pursuit of power by any means. I bet on strong wizards, Albus on weaker but more numerous and easier to control muggleborns."

Snape still did not believe me.

"I don't expect you to believe me. But use your brain. What does he teach at Hogwarts? Nothing. He only sits on a source and recruits allies. He is only interested in power. How can he not notice the Slytherins supporting me? He is allowing a monster to recruit an army to justify his own authority. He is Chief Warlock, advises the Minister, has his own army, influence over all of our children's minds. He does not need the Minister's title when he already has much greater power. Why did he delay fighting Grindelwald for so long? Gathering the power the war offered him. But he made one mistake, Severus. How much do you know of my origins?"

All lies: Albus had no time to teach when he also worked at the Wizengamot and at the ICW. Could not leave Hogwarts - what if one of my sympathizers became the Headmaster? Could not leave the Wizengamot: who else would be as good at halting corruption and preventing Death Eaters from getting off the hook? Could not leave the ICW - how else to fight an international terrorist organization? Had his own army? To fight me. Ignored the Slytherins? Noticed, but most could not be converted... Especially when he eschewed mind-altering methods.

"You are the heir of Slytherin on your mother's side."

Well done, no need to anger the Master.

"And my father?"

"Your father was... a muggle," Snape was waiting on a Crucio.

"And how could a muggle attract my pureblood mother?"

He hadn't seen my mother, the tattered beggar.

"Must be love..."

"No! Dumbledore's ancestors had a feud with the Gaunts and almost won. They framed the male Gaunts to be incarcerated and forced my mother to marry a muggle with a love potion! When she managed to break from under its influence, they killed her and sent me to an orphanage! Your father was a saint compared to a 1930s muggle orphanage. If I hadn't learned to use wandless magic and killed for the first time at 7 years old, I would have been raped and strangled to death!"

The orphanage was rough but not to that extent. Tom mostly tortured other kids...

"Then Dumbledore found me and thoroughly legilimized me before Hogwarts. He planned to make me into an example proving Dark magic is inherently harmful and all Slytherins are inherently evil. And it would have worked: years of Hogwarts, compliance potions, trust compulsions... Of course, an 11 year old boy was no match for a manipulative adult wizard and his lackeys. Dumbledore schemed to heroically defeat yet another Dark Lord to receive more power and acclaim... But he made one small mistake. I had two talents: occlumency and potions. I managed to retain my free will, pretending his compulsions worked and brewing antidotes in secret. But Albus will pay for everything! I am not his personal rabid dog!"

Snape believed me. People did not change their mind so fast... He made the same amateur mistake again, showing me what he thought I wanted to see.

"Severus, don't try to deceive me," I warned.

And Snape showed me his thoughts... Nothing complimentary. Doubts about my sanity. Or rather, no doubts: the Lord is a nutcase. And I thought I spinned it so well...

"Severus, why else would I tell you all this? Why did I not punish you for your disrespect? Why would I take care of Lily, make her stronger?"

I did not like the direction of his thoughts...

"No, Severus. I am Lord Voldemort. Look at your Mark. Some tried to remove it. Even you. Soaked it in potions, drew runes, removed the skin. The most diligent ones cut off their arms. The Mark is not a simple Protean charm. Not just bodily or energy connection. It is connected to my soul and can be controlled by no one except Lord Voldemort."

Snape's thoughts whirled in a different direction, and he didn't hide them fast enough.

"Severus, you disappoint me more and more. I am not interested in Lily as a woman. Your did not need to test her for sexual contact. I am not interested in you either, don't flatter yourself. And stop trying to shield your mind, I grow tired of it."

"I don't understand why you need me, my Lord. Bellatrix would do anything for you. Dolohov is much more powerful. Malfoy is incredibly rich. They would make better students."

"Were you not listening, Severus? A long time ago I survived because of occlumency and potions - otherwise I would have been Albus' attack dog and murdered as soon as I outlived my usefulness. But I saw myself in you, even if it took you longer to learn to deceive Albus. I increased Lily's power fivefold and could have done the same for you. If I needed money, I would convince muggles to share. The only thing I cannot remedy with magic is stupidity, but you are already an excellent occlument and potioneer. With your intelligence and the power I was going to imbue into you, you could have been stronger than anyone in the Inner Circle! But you did everything you could to betray me!"

Finally, at least a shadow of doubt in Albus! But also healthy skepticism as to why I would share power...

"I don't plan to share power. But after conquering England I will march onward and need worthy servants to manage the government in my name. As to why I want a student... Why did the Founders build Hogwarts? There comes a time when you want to pass on your wisdom. But unlike the Founders, my wisdom is only for the worthy."

"So what do you plan now, my Lord?"

"You still have a chance to pay for your crimes with faithful service. Are you ready to hear it?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"First we will work on your vows. Then I will instruct you how to behave at Hogwarts. I will also need information on the Order: names, abilities, schedules... Yes, I know the secrets are well-bound. Get creative. At the very least, your desire to tell me coupled with ritual torture of a wizard should weaken the binds enough for you to spit out a riddle or vague hints about low-rank members. Or bring someone from the Order here. Any questions?"

"My Lord, why did you never make any official complaints against Albus?" - he asked with sincere curiousity. When did he have time to put up defenses? If it weren't for common sense, I would have believed him.

"Severus, I repeat: stop putting up mind shields, getting around them is annoying."

Now I felt skepticism. I needed proof... A lot of proof...

"Severus, a poor orphan halfblood was nothing next to Albus's authority, even before his victory over Grindelwald. But I tried. Azkaban broke my uncle's mind. I found him. Tried to heal him, and through him get recognized as the Gaunt heir. He was thrown back in Azkaban. I tried getting a job at the Ministry but was denied despite O's in every subject. I was denied a teaching post at Hogwarts. The only place that hired me was Borgin and Burke's, but even there I was blamed for every murder and theft. I was forced to flee the country. I could not get used to foreign sources and had to keep moving to escape constant assassination attempts. I returned because I could only properly defend myself in England."

In reality, I framed my uncle and did not want to work at the Ministry - why shuffle parchment when I was born to rule? Albus suspected me of murder: Myrtle likely died from basilisk's gaze, and I was the only parselmouth... All circumstantial evidence, but if you added rumors, my "circle of friends," several mysterious disappearances, the story with Morfin... Best to keep someone like that away from children. Borgin and Burke's was ideal for finding future soul containers. I traveled abroad in search of the diadem and teachers, then came back once I was done.

But Severus still didn't believe me... What to show him? I got it!

"Dumbledore looks like a kindly grandpa and a Light wizard, but he is a power-hungry, manipulative monster. To gather forces to overthrow his tyranny, I portray myself as his antithesis," - and I took all the charms off my face.

Snape felt surprised but decided it was an illusion. I cast revealing charms and cancellation of transfiguration on myself - everything confirmed this was my true appearance. But Snape thought I was only enunciating the charms while non-verbally casting something else...

"Severus, how is your knowledge of runes?"

"The basics, my Lord."

"Can you draw formulas of the charms I just used with your blood on the table?"

"Only the first two."

"Do it."

Magical exhaustion aside, I would never let him point a wand at me. And he drew too slowly to attack with runes.

When his own work proved the truth of my appearance, his skepticism somewhat diminished.

I was going to draw more formulas in the air for Snape to copy, but one look at his ghostly face said he needed a break from blood magic.

"And now let us talk about what you can do for me. You are the head of Slytherin. Improve its reputation. Do what you want, but make sure the Slytherins do not antagonize anyone without reason. Blood status and deeds of relatives do not count as reasons. Have them support other quidditch teams when they are not playing themselves. Have them teach muggleborns about the magical world and our traditions. If you don't know how to persuade children, look through the minds of some muggle psychologists. If the Slytherins scream about their eminence, shut them up and write to their parents. Most families are at least neutral to us, so I think they will take appropriate measures after a warning about their child's behavior. In short, put an end to this ridiculous house rivalry!"

I found out all about school squabbles from Lily's mind. Snape was looking at me like I was an idiot, his thoughts accordant. He disguised his confusion but was once again too slow.

"Severus, don't try to fool me. Answer me this: how long have we been at war?"

"The active phase is approaching two years. But it has been brewing for eleven."

"Exactly! Hogwarts education takes seven years! An entire generation considers us evil! I could have been recruiting from three more houses! And what will we do with all of Albus's fosterlings once we win? When one of them calls their classmate a Death Eater doormat, what do we do? Ignore it or give him a time-out? No one will take us seriously. Crucio? Monsters. Kill? Murderers. Expel and let runaway Orderers teach him magic in the forest? Seizing power means nothing if we cannot hold it. We must train my faithful young. And we must prioritize the largest, most elite school in England.

If Albus asks why you are acting this way, tell him you don't want the Slytherins to be hated and become murderers or to call their loved ones mudbloods and break their hearts. Start a potions club. Organize a dueling club with Flitwick. No teaching Dark magic! In fact, discourage it. But do preserve your dark and brooding image - Lily is dead, your life has no purpose. If you act too lively, Albus will get suspicious despite the horrors you show him with occlumency. And of course you still have all your old Death Eater and brewing duties."

"My Lord, I am not sure I can do all that..."

"Try your best, Severus. I am not expecting everyone to start loving Slytherins or run to my service. Few less people supporting Albus will be a good start."

Convincing everyone Albus is evil will be hard. But as the saying goes, good always triumphs over evil. So whoever wins is good.

"Now, the most important goal. We need to kill Dumbledore."

I caught a second of undiluted terror. It was abruptly replaced with optimism.

"Severus, I understand your defenses are reflexive. I am the same way. But as a sign of loyalty, do make an effort to keep them down."

...Hopelessness. Certainty that this is some convoluted torture and mockery.

"Severus, trust me, I have many better torture options. I did not say you must kill him personally. I need information. Tell him you want to avenge Lily's death and ask him to teach you. How did he defeat Grindelwald? What did he learn from Flamel? Did Albus omit any dragon blood uses from his book? What books and instruments does he have in his office? Find out about his past, hobbies, desires. Where does he get his food? Does he have a lover or children? Who would make a good bait? Whose death will shake him up enough to make a mistake? Also, look for ways into Hogwarts and diversion options. Can we dig a tunnel? Curse the house elves to kill the first years?"

"Dumbledore is clever. He will notice my interest."

"Are you not a Slytherin? Think of something. For example, find a pureblood child who is both stupid and disposable and bring him to me. I will take his parents hostage, give him the Mark and order to kill Albus. Let him divert Albus' attention. And you can blame all your failures on him."

Snape calmed down a little.

"Excellent, Severus. Let your loyalty never waver. Remember, we are in the same boat. With me, you will have power and Lily. Without me, your best option is a lonely life grading boil cure potions. And now we will work on your vows."

I got up from the chair and immobilized Snape. Time to play a programmer...

Snape's vows were beautifully done - completely undetectable. I worked "in the dark," orienting myself through his memories.

First, the easiest: vengeance for Lily's death. This one should have self-destructed, but Snape poured in so much power and hate that it lied dormant. Fascinating... So now if anyone killed Lily, Snape must retaliate... How to coax Dumbledore into killing Lily? Not too important right now, I already had Snape's compliance...

Faint as they were, I managed to pin down the rest. Now slightly nudge the condition... "Must prevent death of anyone you are able to save." You can't save anyone: you were found out, the Lord reads your thoughts, the Lord is omnipotent... "Aid the Order of the Phoenix." Lily never stopped being a member, you will help her study... "Protect muggleborns." You will be doing exactly that at Hogwarts... " Contribute to Voldemort's fall." I already fell: defended a muggleborn, turned away from blood purism, can't go any lower... "Relay important information." Albus will learn about a new Inner Circle Death Eater, what can be more important? You will even relay my one hour speech word for word, and the attack on mercenaries is a trifling detail...

And so I continued convincing the vows and suppressing them with influx of my magic. It was a temporary solution. The vows struggled to return to their original condition: compel Snape to tell Albus everything as soon as he leaves the manor, or die in pain. They could be broken permanently, but that had to wait until Albus's death - he would not miss the characteristic traces of their destruction.

"I did everything I could. Congratulation, you are now an addict. Come back twice a week to repeat the procedure. Otherwise you will die or betray me, making Lily's continued existence useless."

I dispelled the paralysis charm.

"Now give me your arm. I need to call on Lily."

"My Lord, punish me instead!"

"I am not interested in torture, but my trust in you had been lost. We will tell her about the duel, making her believe you vow to chivalrously save her. In reality, she will be the binder for your Unbreakable vow to assist in killing Albus and not disclose anything you heard today. The operation to kill Dumbledore will be called "Rose."

"Why?"

"Because she will refuse to knowingly participate in a plan to kill him."

I cast the courier charm: little spheres scurried out to every apparition platform to greet Lily with a voice message. Through Severus's Mark, I called her back to the manor. I should expand its functions to something more resembling a telephone... Or remove the tattoos altogether? Make them invisible? Give out rings?

Lily soon arrived, donned in full uniform.

"Take off your mask."

At least she wasn't completely hopeless: under polyjuice, wearing all her amulets.

"Your rude behavior and excessive Crucios upset part of the Circle. Rosier challenged you to a duel. You have no chances and will die within a month." - she flushed with horror and injustice. - "But I am willing to save you, to fool my own servants and fight in your place. The price is very small: several vows from Severus. You will be the binder."

While I could pin anything on Lily, Snape will be in contact with Albus who would notice new vows. With him, I took a more furtive route and made the vow to avenge Lily appear active, fitting an Unbreakable vow right under Albus's cover.

"Do you, Severus Snape, vow to never disclose any confidential information pertaining to Lord Voldemort to any person or entity in any manner, unless directly ordered to do so by Lord Voldemort?"said Lily.

"I do," answered Snape.

"Do you vow to die within a week of Lord Voldemort's death or disembodiment?"

"I do."

"If Lord Voldemort is imprisoned or taken under control, do you vow to free him or die within a week of the said event?"

"I do."

"Do you vow to do everything in your power to complete operation "Rose" within the time frame given to you by Lord Voldemort?"

"I do," Snape cringed.

If it were up to me, I would bury them in vows. But that meant increasing the chances of conflict, and incompatible vows would kill them...

Still, this was good enough. They now must either both serve me or kill each other. I didn't believe they could ever have the power to secretly disable the vows, but I will monitor them nonetheless. And if I didn't like the results... Snape would receive a suicide mission, and Bellatrix one more child to raise.

"Excellent, Lily. As I said before, I will be teaching you magic. But first, Severus will train you in the basics."

"Can I study on my own or have another teacher, my Lord?"

"You would kill yourself on your own. And anyone else would notice your lack of skills, forcing me to kill one of you. Snape is the only one in the know and your only contact. You are to limit your interactions with everyone else to "hi-bye," "I'm in a rush- the Lord's orders." Now go back home, I will stop by soon."

She left, and I reapplied confidentiality charms. Unfortunately she had to be taught self-defense, and I had to control her progress, guiding her in the right direction. I already thought of a study plan.

Considering her soft-heartedness, I saw only one option: blood magic. Magical exhaustion? Cut your hand and keep casting. Dark magic? Are you crazy? This is your own blood, do you consider menstruation Dark too? Then teach her to control the blood of another, starting with healing... As an added benefit, blood mages had a reputation of maniacs who cut themselves, enemies and allies alike. The "good guys" from the Inner Circle will stay away from her, and she already angered the radicals...

"You have no future with a muggleborn Gryffindor from the Order, Severus. But you have excellent chances with the Dark Lord's student - what could be more natural than family business? You will teach her according to my program. At first, nothing forbidden. Train her aim and battle reflexes. Pay special attention to the Air Whip spell, she should already know it from the defense NEWT. You will begin after I take care of Rosier - it is inappropriate for a second to fraternize with the opponent."

"My Lord, would it not be better to teach her Dark or battle magic?"

"It would. But not right away. If you offer her to practice the Cruciatus on muggles, she will spit in your face and kill herself. So nothing but school charms for at least a month. Then teach her to handle fire."

"Fiendfyre, my Lord? She won't be able..."

"Regular fire. It will help her master charmed fire in the future. After that, teach her a single shield. Mana shield - it is universal and depends on the amount of invested power, which she has in abundance. But this is for the third month. Severus, are you proficient with blood magic?"

"Only the basics, my Lord. But Lily will refuse to learn it."

"She will not refuse. Find her sick muggle children. Teach her to use her own blood to heal them. Stay incognito: no regrowing limbs, focus on cancer, infections and the like."

"You will allow her to heal muggles, my Lord?"

"It will be her blood magic practice. And if the material remains alive, even better - it can be useful again. She can heal as many as she wants. With her own blood. If she asks for someone else's blood to save more people, inform me immediately. This will be month four. Then you will begin teaching her legilimency."

"My Lord, legilimency is extremely difficult..."

"I know. But she only needs to be able to read the minds of sleeping muggles, touching their heads with her wand."

"If I may ask, my Lord, why does she need that?"

"Because human minds are cesspools. And the fastest way towards hate is reading people's thoughts. Sooner or later Lily will heal an abuser or a murderer. Maybe he will even return to her again, having committed new crimes. It will be only natural to consider killing him and using his blood to save many more innocents...

Next, you are going to teach her occlumency. I will not allow anyone into her head. Not even you. You could accidentally kill her by triggering her secrecy vow. I plan to teach her myself, but my mental defenses are too complex for her. You will tell me all about yours, and I will show her."

I wanted to copy Snape's occlumency method for myself. Lily will get the budget version, with a clearly visible shield. And Snape can think she is just bad at the Mind Arts.

"And then, milord?"

"When she sufficiently hardens, you will delve deeper into blood magic. It has a marvelous universal spell - the blood whip. Her experience with the Air Whip and working with blood will help. She should learn the basics and wield a thread of blood in a month. The rest is a matter of practice. And shield her from any other Dark magic as much as you can. She must ask you to learn more herself."

"I don't know how to use the blood whip, milord."

"Practice, you have enough time until you must teach her. I don't expect either of you become a master of blood magic, only master a single spell. Do not start until you are fully recovered from magical exhaustion - I will have no need of the girl if you die. And success in blood magic rivaling her teacher will only encourage her. Do not reveal your lack of experience."

How will it look from the outside? For Lily, she saves people. For Aurors and Death Eaters, she steals muggle children for vile blood magic experiments. And when Greyback or another psycho comes to her asking to share toys and material, she will greet them with fire and a blood whip, defending her patients. They will survive, but soon everyone will know to stay far away from the new Bellatrix.

Snape's thoughts... He had already accepted the Lord was pure evil, but now he thought I raised the bar and shattered it. He finally came to believe my guile could beat Albus. If only I could know he was sincere...

The Lord loved flattery.

"Severus, I see your thoughts. But I want you to voice them. Be truthful."

"After you spared Lily, I had doubts you were the true Dark Lord," Snape confessed. "I had reasons for my doubts. Now there are none. No doubts and no reasons."

"Get your occlumency back up, Severus. We will now discuss what you must say to Rosier and the others about Elena. And to Dumbledore about the Dark Lord's plans..."

Snape left after receiving the last of his orders, but my brainwashing stint was not over. Time to go to Lily.

Lily was not interested in power or the mysteries of magic... Where Tom Riddle would sweat blood for a grain of knowledge and then try to kill the teacher, she only thought about not committing crimes. Lily needed a different fairy tale, one where she saved lives... Converting her to my worldview or turning her into another Bellatrix was a foolish endeavor, but I needed to start somewhere.

As soon as I entered the hall, Lily rushed down from the second floor to greet me. Curious: no matter the time, magic always showed Harry in his crib.

Her thoughts clarified it: she asked the house elf to always warn her of my arrival and put Harry to sleep while she tried to meet me far from the nursery. Logical, considering my infamy. And the child struggled with his mother's appearance changes...

Back to business.

"So, what did you think of the meeting, Elena?"

Her thoughts were scattershot.

"I see your thoughts, but answer me. Think before you speak and don't forget to add "my Lord."

"Horrible, my Lord."

"It was hardly so bad. As you saw, no murders or orgies. Simply politics, goals and strategies. The same executive, legislative and judicial power, only at one table. And self-enforcing. We don't have pet Aurors and must to do everything ourselves. After the war we will have separation of powers, courts and everything else."

She did not see it that way but wisely remained silent.

"I ask you to use less Dark magic and Unforgivables or, ideally, completely refrain from them. You should not use Dark magic when a regular spell will suffice."

That caught her off-guard.

"I don't understand, my Lord."

"You cast the Cruciatus on Snape twice. It is life in Azkaban. And torturing each other is not acceptable. Snape could have reacted on instinct. I had to Crucio him in front of everyone to save you from their retaliation."

"You provoked me, my Lord."

"I showed you the truth to rid you of illusions. I gave you permission to use the Cruciatus in case someone attacked you - it would have gone through any shield, giving me time to save you. But instead you got yourself in dead trouble. Because Snape had magical exhaustion and could not defend himself, his comrade Rosier decided to challenge you to a duel. It took me a lot of effort to postpone the duel and arrange the switch to save you."

"Was "my proposal" no the reason, my Lord?"

"Partially. But he challenged you after the second Cruciatus on Snape. The reason was your manners rather than your politics. But don't fret: this time I will save you and fight Rosier myself. Be careful in the future and at least learn something."

"I will not study Dark magic, my Lord."

"Dark magic is complex and powerful. You are unlikely to succeed. Snape will work with you on Hogwarts curriculum. Do you have anything against the Air Whip charm? You will begin after the duel: Snape is Rosier's second and spending time with you will look suspicious. Meanwhile, read through the Hogwarts defense and dueling books the house elf will bring you."

Not the orders she expected from the Dark Lord... She was anxiously searching for a catch.

"You want to force me to practice spells on people?"

"No. Either practice here or on the Lestranges' training dummies. Back to the subject of the meeting. I expected you to understand. You looked but refused to see. So I will put it in simple terms for you: to preserve the Statute of Secrecy, I am ready to oppose the Ministry's racist policies, gift power to a muggleborn, accept her into the Inner Circle and shut up radical Death Eaters. Whether I will succeed in the latter depends on you as well."

I tried so hard! And instead of acceptance I was again considered a lunatic...

"The Ministry and Albus preach equality between muggles and wizards. Their next step is repealing the Statute. Do you know what it means? World War 3. Do you think people changed? Recall your relationship with your sister when she learned of your magic. Or most wizards' condescension towards muggles. For instance, what Potter and Black did at Petunia's wedding. And don't tell me it was just a prank."

I did not honestly know whether Albus planned to repeal the Statute. But extrapolated from his politics, it sounded very reasonable.

"On the other hand," I continued, "there are radical wizards. They grew up convinced of their superiority. A wizard can live an entire life without meeting a single muggle. For some purebloods, muggles are what Africans were for the 18th century English. Their ideas are simple: destroy or control muggles. You think they can't succeed? Think again. It is very simple to change the coordinates of atomic warheads' targets. Or detonate them before launch. Or transfigure uranium and make the bombs themselves. Several Imperios - and an accidental launch destroys a country. They attack back... The survivors will be picked off or turned into werewolves. Or devoured by dementors- muggles can't see them and will have no resources to devise a way to fight them."

Of course, even maniacs like Rosier would never willingly destroy the planet. But for Lily... This would do for now.

"As you see, the Ministry's equality and the radicals' superiority have different goals leading to the same result: fall of the Statute and war."

Legilimency showed I just told her my plan for destroying the world. And that she wished I was dead.

"If your dreams suddenly came true and I died, the world would plunge into war. A war without end. But I am not interested in war. I am interested in magic and knowledge. The only way to preserve both muggle and wizarding worlds is to preserve the Statute."

"The Ministry is not planning to repeal the Statute..."

"That is what you think! I am more informed of their plans and behind the scenes talks. They want to exterminate all non-human sentient races, then lift the Statute. I am trying to stop this madness."

"You are its cause and leader!"

Oh how I wished I could cruciate her. But that would not convince her of anything. Or rather, convince her that I was evil... Maybe one little tiny Crucio, then Obliviate? But then Snape might notice and decide they would both be better off dead...

"If I led madness, I would spend my days torturing muggles instead of trying to minimize losses."

"You kill people! You killed my husband and the Longbottoms! My Lord."

"Bring me the pensieve. Right now."

I began cherry-picking memories. Tom was a maniac who could waste hours on torture. But he also was an efficient fighter, often acting covertly or leaving witnesses to spread the word of his power.

She resurfaced thirty minutes later.

"Did you see? I didn't kill the muggle child on the way to your house. I threw stunners at the Longbottoms, offered them to join me, offered to remain neutral. An they cast Avadas back at me! Was I supposed to roll over and die?! Why did Aurors, the alleged guardians of law and order, use illegal magic? If they survived, would they have thrown themselves in Azkaban?"

She thought the memories were fake. And that she wouldn't hesitate to Avada me herself.

"Neville also tried to kill you, my Lord?"

"No. That's why he is alive and well. We will go somewhere now. Then stop by the Lestranges and see Neville. Be quiet and behave."

I cast illusions on both of us to appear as nondescript humans, followed by scent-blocking charms.

We apparated into a forest and after a few minutes of walking reached some "houses" in not much better shape than the Gaunt's hovel.

Two men walked up to us.

"You are not welcome here. Especially you," one of the werewolves pointed at Lily. "Leave."

No need to falsify evidence here. The Ministry pushed werewolves right into my loving arms. But why did they dislike Lily? Ah, it seems one of her wands had a werewolf heart core, and they sensed it. Even better!

" _Lily, show them your Mark_ ," I said in her mind.

She bared her arm.

"Can I check?" one of them asked, pulling out a wand.

"Yes," repeated Lily after me.

The werewolf touched her forearm with his wand an muttered something, examining the Mark. Satisfied, he turned towards me.

"He is with me," said Lily. "One of my wands has a werewolf heart core, but it was a battle trophy."

This appeased the werewolves, and they drastically warmed up to us.

"Are you here on business or with a private visit?"

"Private visit. Can we go inside?"

We followed the community leader into his parody of a house.

" _Lily, no need to introduce yourself by name. You are a foreign Death Eater. Ask him about the lives of werewolves in England."_

And the leader told her: everything was grim. They could not live in the magical world - no one hired werewolves. They could not own wands - illegal for non-humans. The community survived gathering ingredients and poaching, selling everything on the black market - werewolves could not get licenses. They earned a bit on low-level crime: no murders, mostly intimidation. The Aurors ignored them in exchange for regular bribes. Many wanted to leave the magical world but were forbidden - magical creatures endangering The Statute. Some managed to get jobs as movers and security guards; the leader, as the only one with a wand, regularly cleared their muggle employers' memories. They could steal, but it would attract the DMLE's attention.

Their thoughts on Greyback? Sick psycho. But while he ran amuck, the Ministry focused on him and left them alone. The Dark Lord? Bless him. Maybe he would give them some rights. But they refused to risk their own lives fighting.

Funny, it was almost all true.

" _Thank him, offer money and leave,_ " I told Lily in her mind.

"How would you feel if I offered you money?"

"No. I will not allow anyone recruit my people. One goes, and we will all be punished. Look for Greyback and his soldiers."

"What if I gave it to you as a gift?"

"No. If the Aurors find out I take money from Death Eaters, they will skin us alive. If they caught me now, I could say I talked to you because I feared for my life. I promised nothing, received nothing. I ask you not to come here again. Our life is hard as it is without the Ministry's spotlight."

We apparated to the Lestranges' and went to the library.

"Elena, choose several books to learn how to check the authenticity of my memories."

"You set everything up, didn't you? My Lord?"

"Unfortunately, no. Your friend Lupin is a propaganda poster boy. What you saw is how most werewolves live. The rest have it worse. They are banned from both muggle and magical world. Possessing a wand is a crime. By the way, your wand with the werewolf heart core is perfectly legal. A wand with your own blood is not."

"How could it be? My Lord?"

"You should probably take more books home. "The Collection of Laws of Magical England" and "Magical Races And Beings." In short, sentient magical creatures, for example veelas, are not legally human. Using the Unforgivables on them is legal, but veelas still stand above many other races. For example, there is a vampire hunting season when killing them is encouraged. All are official Ministry policies."

The reality was not so gruesome: veelas were rare and treated as human despite the antiquated law. Merepeople and centaurs were ignored... And vampires and werewolves were actually dangerous.

"Why is no one doing anything?"

"I am. But slavery can not be abolished with votes."

Werewolves may have been cannon fodder, but I still needed to solve their problems. If I offered them reasonable conditions, the neutrals would join me... And benefit the new society after my victory.

"You have a new task. Develop a program of werewolf integration into the magical world."

"And how am I going to do that?"

Good, the girl did not overestimate her abilities.

"You do not need to do it alone. You are my student. Order someone to help you. You will receive data on werewolves, their numbers, needs, location. To start, you will work with Charles Nott." - my plan was genius. Even is she failed, she would spend time with the most benevolent Death Eater. Who was also a widower... And a master of blood magic... Which she will study soon..

"You only want to get more recruits!" Lily argued.

"They are already mine. You and Nott only need to develop a plan to improve their lives. Have schools where they are taught to brew wolfsbane. Equal rights allowing them to use wands and just punishments for attacking or infecting people. Not all Death Eaters are terrorists. Some hold legislative offices and will introduce your project at the Wizengamot. Do it. This is an order."

It would never pass. Werewolves were XXXXX-class creatures, just as dragons and basilisks. Lily will be angry. And werewolves even angrier.

"Yes, my Lord."

If looks could kill, no amount of horcruxes would have saved me.

"Excellent. Take your books. I will introduce you to Nott later, but you may begin your work now."

I called on Bellatrix through the Mark. She came in with a bright smile that died as soon as she saw Elena.

"Elena wants to view Neville. She knows he is a Longbottom. I want to see him as well."

Bellatrix lead us to the nursery. Neville looked like any other child. The Lestranges clearly spoiled him: two rooms were filled with toys. I was not sure about love, but Neville got plenty of care and attention. Maybe giving him to a childless couple was not one of my best ideas.. Although the sight of Lily stupefied by Bellatrix fussing over a baby was worth it.

I was approached by the eldest Lestrange.

"My Lord, should we formally adopt Neville?"

A complicated question. Neville could theoretically be compatible with the Lestranges' source, but since I didn't use the most humane methods saving them from their family curse... And again, that damned prophecy... I needed the full text.

"You should treat him well but let him stay a Longbottom. Someone must continue their line."

The bets had been made. Time will tell if I was right.

I took Lily out of the room and cast privacy charms.

"You saw everything. Neville is alive and happy. I do not believe in the prophecy: it was a bait to either ambush me or provoke me to kill them, creating martyrs and improving their image. Come, we will now go to my workshop."

"I refuse to participate in human sacrifice. My Lord."

"There will be no sacrifice. Only me and runes. On wood and metal. You may watch."

Why would I show her the Lestranges' torture rooms or ritual halls when there was a clean, sunny craft room?

Lily sullenly stood near the exit, and I was recalling Tom's rune skills. This was far from true artifact creation. More analogous to putting together a grenade from pre-made parts, only with drawings instead of fuses. Connect the two disks, fill with the author's magic - and it explodes. And one more...

"Why are you showing me all this? I know this is theater. As soon as I leave, there will be human sacrifices."

Smart girl. But this was not an act: no sacrifices on today's agenda. When you leave, I will continue drawing runes. Explosives will come handy in storming the base, and I will test the potential of some new configurations...

"Think what you will. There are some fans of human sacrifice among the Death Eaters. I must participate to maintain my image. But I refrain from using Dark magic whenever I have a choice. How many banned spells have you seen me use?"

"One Crucio on Snape."

Some of the shields I put on her were technically Dark. But she had not seen anything else. And when the rumors will spin horrors about her, she should start doubting the things she heard about me.

"Exactly, and I did it to save you from the others who would have cursed you for breaking ranks. You must learn restraint. Now go home and do what I told you. And don't forget to read the book of English laws. This is an order. Go."

When I felt her leave the manor, I called Edward.

"Hello, my friend. I see you noticed my student. She is very busy with my orders but will occasionally come here to train. Don't watch her train - she is twitchy. Make sure she does not stumble upon any prisoners, especially Black. Ban her from accessing the dungeons. She is a master of blood, very passionate and always runs out of material. Naturally, this is a secret. Rosier will be in for a surprise. Don't tell a soul."

Blood specialists had a... distinct reputation. Especially passionate ones. It perfectly explained why I kept such a tight hold on her.

"Yes, my Lord. Maybe I better keep her away from Neville as well?"

"I strictly forbade her from touching Neville or you. Be polite and distant with her. Do not give her any information or chat her up."

"Yes, my Lord. Will she be participating in the assault on the mercenaries?"

"Yes. You will command the operation. Now leave me."

I carried on applying runes onto rocks, metal disks and parchment. One can never have too much explosives... And then I'd craft a special surprise.


	14. France: The End of the Eagle Eye

I sat at the Lestranges' workshop, layering charms over a gold ring. Tom was in no way an artificer. Putting together something unstable and destructive was within his power, but he avoided using artifacts in front of servants. After all, the Dark Lord was omnipotent... The ring was for Lily.

The Lord ordered the entire Inner Circle to participate in the assault on the mercenary base. It would be a prime opportunity to showcase Lily. She had a special role: misdirection. She will draw a lot of attention in several combat operations, then hole up under the Fidelius. Let everyone search for the new extremist. And find me under her guise. In any scenario, the Dark Lord's student will be hunted with less manpower than the Lord himself.

Lily's contribution to the assault must be something other than fighting, yet not look like cowardice, stupidity, weakness or my coddling. The solution was clear: she would arrive, waste all her power on a single awe-inspiring spell, and return home like an empty bomber aircraft. But one Reducto, no matter how powerful, would not impress anyone. And the girl knew no High magic...

The most crucial part this operation was breaking the manor's defenses. It involved three steps: activating our esteemed deserter's "surprise", taking down the main ward, and tackling the lesser protective enchantments. Burning everything with Fiendfyre would be much cleaner, but sadly the place had multilayered source-powers defenses preventing just that: the fire would be very sluggish and easy to extinguish...

But that was beside the point. To breach the ward, Lily would have to create the spell structure (with wandwork or runes), then imbue it with energy. She had zero experience and knowledge for the first. And charging someone else's spell would make even the daftest Death Eaters realize she was a dud.

And so, I was busy packing the entire spell structure into the ring. I had the brains for it, especially since I learned the ward's structure from the defector... What was his name, Jean?

Like a true thief, I was making a lockpick. All Lily will have to do is turn it: cut her hand and touch wound with the artifact. It will absorb her energy and draw the spell structure, leaving Lily to push everything through her wand.

The ring took me three hours to create and will last another two at best. Now, the last minor detail was to convince Lily... If not force or threaten. But first, take my potions: magic regeneration, sped up perception, blood replenishing, night vision...

In her house, Lily was already under polyjuice, hunched over a cauldron with her own night vision potion.

"Put on your uniform. You will be taking part in a combat operation. The mercenaries must be put in their place."

Lily froze. Again. But her mind was an open book.

"Here are the newspaper articles. They are authentic. You no doubt heard about the mayhem mercenaries cause in England. Think back. They don't give a damn about the targets, they work for whomever pays more. This particular group is famous for mass murder. They must be put down to preserve the Statute because even I won't be able protect us from a nuclear explosion."

Mercenaries or "private military companies" were conveniently clear-cut: give them a target to guard or eliminate and provide payment - and they fulfill the order. They tried to do all illegal jobs outside their home countries. Sure, they could sometimes get carried away and blow up an extra building or take a few extra prisoners for ingredients. But compared to most Death Eaters, they were the pinnacle of moderation and integrity: money over ideology, indifferent to blood status, never killed for free, much less for their own amusement.

The Death Eaters occasionally used their services. The range of offers varied wildly from group to group, but this "Eagle Eye" decided to play white knights: they refused to work with us on principle. Not even to procure non-human ingredients! On its own, that would not be a big deal. But they happily cozied up to the British Ministry and were for all intents and purposes part-time Aurors. Their deaths must remind others that money has no smell.

"I see your thoughts but want you to voice them. No need to fear, I do not cruciate anyone for opinions."

"Even if these mercenaries are so horrible and endanger the Statute, I don't want to be a part of your war, my Lord."

"How regrettable. Mulciber and his team had already put over a hundred of muggles and a dozen of wizards under Imperius. They will all be sacrificed to weaken the base's defenses. If you took down the main ward, some of them would survive."

"Are there any other ways to take it down, my Lord?"

"A very strong wizard can do it. But if I were to spend my energy on the ward, I would not be able to fight when I am needed most. The plan to break the ward with human sacrifice was developed before you joined. Aside from me, you are the only one capable of it."

"So if I do it, those people will survive? My Lord?"

"Some will most certainly survive. Some will be lost to the manor's traps. Mulciber and Rosier plan to herd the Imperioed ahead, to protect their own skin. But if you do not take down the ward, they are all guaranteed a slow and excruciating death in the ritual. And the Death Eaters will find new people to be their live shield."

If it were this easy, I would always carry prisoners with me. Not enough energy? Just kill someone and carry on! If only... But in the face of all their advantages, ritual sacrifices were impractically slow and hard to conceal.

"I only have to take down the ward, my Lord?"

"Yes. I am going to give you an artifact. With one hand, point your wand at the manor. With the other, cut your finger on the ring. It will siphon your magic. Overpowering such a strong ward will leave you with magical exhaustion. It feels a bit unpleasant but has no long-term consequences. Then you will immediately go home. No need to kill, fight or speak with anyone."

"Blood magic is Dark and illegal."

"Not quite. Some healers at St. Mungo's work with blood. Many potions require blood of the patient or the brewer. You should have brewed some in your sixth year of Hogwarts. You can use your own blood for many other equally benign purposes. And I am not offering you anyone else's."

I was just too lazy to make a higher quality artifact, and you must get used to working with your own blood. So miraculously simple: a single cut pushing the boundaries of reality! If I understood anything about psychology, once she sees how little of her pain can save a hundred lives, she will have a very hard time believing in equality...

Lily wanted no part of it, certain that I was lying or omitting things. But she had enough sense to remind herself that refusing will do nothing but land her a Crucio followed by a direct order she can only defy once before dropping dead. My request fell well within our "unofficial agreement" where she stays loyal and I don't order her anything vile.

"I agree to take down the ward as you described. My Lord."

"Wonderful. Put on the ring and take your portkey. Squeeze your hand like so, and your glove will sprout a thorn, cutting your finger near the ring. Drink this blood-replenishin potion."

I cast the defensive charms on her, and we apparated to the Lestranges'. The entire Circle (bar Snape) was already waiting. After they drank their potions, we broke up into groups and portkeyed to France.

We landed in a lush clearing about twenty miles from the Mediterranean Sea. But I was not here for sightseeing. The first thing I noticed was the local ambient magic: different but still close to the Isles'. Good enough to win.

About a mile ahead stood a house. Not a castle one would expect based on their wards but an actual large house surrounded with a garden. Some defenses were visible in magical sight... Their long-distance systems had yet to detect us, thanks to our valiant traitor.

The Death Eaters burst into action. Some began unpacking golems from magically expanded containers. Some were drawing runes, others waving around artifacts or arranging them into geometric shapes on the ground to raise wards against apparition, portkeys, communication, magic detection...

In addition to me, Lily and 19 Inner Circle Death Eaters (first squad), we had plenty more soldiers. The second squad consisted of two dozen marked but not yet worthy of sitting at the Dark Lord's table. The third was two dozen "mercenaries" - not professionals like our targets but hired semi-loyal British criminals. And finally, a live shield of over a hundred muggles and ten wizards under Imperius. Our enemies were biased against killing innocents, so they would provide an excellent distraction.

Sadly, giants and powerful creatures were too difficult to portkey into a foreign country. But we did bring dementors, inferi and liches, including James, Alice and Frank. To prevent Lily from seeing and saying too much, I dressed them in covered hoods, gamoured their faces and sent them to the other side of the building. The undead were preparing to attack underground, in the main escape tunnel and any other passages that may be created during the fight.

The dementors made me pause. Tom had strong occlumency and dementors behaved around us, so I predictably felt no discomfort. Still, their presence somehow felt strikingly different from my memories, and I couldn't put a finger on it...

But enough dawdling. Our large party could not stay hidden for long.

"General, change of plans. Elena will be breaking the main ward in my place," I said to Edward.

Tom liked playing toy soldiers, but I didn't feel like a great warlord at the moment. Memories suggested only Dolohov and the eldest Lestrange could be trusted to lead in battle. And to a much lesser extent Rosier, Mulciber and Jugson.

Dolohov lived to fight, so I let him take over the second Death Eater team. Rosier will lead the hired thugs. Mulciber will command the puppets from a safe distance. Jugson will direct the undead in the underground assault. And Edward will oversee the entire operation from behind enemy lines and lead the artifact fire from those who were strong wizards but bad soldiers.

"Go ahead, Elena, dismantle the ward and leave as soon as you are done. Remember, magical exhaustion does not excuse you from your other project."

And now to tell her what to do in her mind...

Lily took off her mask and pointed her wand at the shimmering dome, then clenched her left fist. The ring was invisible under her glove, and blood did not seep through the uniform - Death Eaters had to look immortal even heavily wounded. Her blood touched the ring.

From outside it looked like she performed the spell wandlessly and wordlessly. Of course, knowledgeable people will suspect an artifact. But so what if it was? The energy signature was different from the Lord's, so she was clearly fueling the spell on her own. And the energy around her rippled with very recognizable blood magic undertones...

Lily's wand shot out a silver cord. It hit the ward dome and disappeared. But the dome immediately cracked and began crumbling inward. The energy discharge was so great it was visible with the naked eye. In less than a second, the enemy knew we were attacking.

Now Elena will not escape the Aurors' attention. International attention. Without a "cleanup" with Astral Cacophony or analogous charms, such powerful magic left a clear and distinct imprint. Law enforcement will easily connect the double murder in Knockturn to military actions in France. And some of our hired thugs will survive to tell tales of the Dark Lord's dreadful servant who uncovers her face to better savor the destruction...

Dumbfounded, Lily watched the mile-wide ward crumble into dust. I activated her portkey and sent her back to the Lestranges' through the "backdoor" in our wards that was always left open to anyone with the Mark.

Meanwhile, dozens of wizards unleashed their best. Low-life criminals and wizards under Imperius bombarded the house with explosive curses. The Death Eaters favored stronger and more illegal spells, the Inner Circle putting in the most earnest effort of all. The Carrows attacked with a Firestorm and Fiendfyre, the roaring flames speeding up and whirling into the sky with the help of Rosier's tornado spell. The Lestranges worked together to conjure a darting black cloud that showered the grounds with grey lightning. Mulciber even cast Mass Delirium on the entire house, though I was not sure it affected anyone.

I decided to not hold back myself and threw a fireball at the house. It rapidly grew and reached ten yards in diameter by the time it approached the walls. Before it could hit its target, I already conjured a grey "cloud" that rained down toxic charms. It actually looked more like a giant amoeba when it sprouted pseudopods that tried to poke the house.

My Miasma Curse "cloud" could easily exterminate an entire muggle neighborhood. But we were storming a magically reinforced paramilitary headquarters. Lily only broke through their metaphorical main gates. There were more defenses ahead, albeit much less powerful.

The first wave of petty curses from our "foot soldiers" overwhelmed the enemy's ambulant shields. The next shimmery dome-like layer wobbled under the onslaught of magic and got shattered by the Inner Circle's attacks.

The remaining shields directly over the house were of every imaginable color and shape: cones, pyramids, polyhedrons... My fireball exploded before reaching the wall, taking one of the shields with it. A purple lightning shot from below, evaporating my cursed cloud into harmless smoke.

The enemy's automatic defenses returned fire, but we held it off with relative ease. Good thing the killing curse could not be stuffed into a artifact!

I jabbed my wand at one of the sculptures near the entrance that was barraging us with curses, and a thick Black Lightning disintegrated the enchanted stone on contact. I followed with shield penetrators and a tunnel drilling charm. The penetrator ate through two layers of defense, popping them like soap bubbles before depleting itself. The mountain buster left a hundred yard long trench in its wake but stopped before reaching the house.

I detested this type of battle. The enemy was too well-defended to be picked off from a distance. And soon their leader would take command of the source and start hitting us hard.

We planned a direct assault covered by precision strikes from the distance. This version of blitzkrieg will finish them in two hours, while everything was still cut off from magic monitoring systems - people sympathetic to Death Eater money were everywhere, even in the French Ministry of Magic. High casualties were a given, so hundreds of golems and inferi would go first, along with all the Imperioed puppets and the mercenaries. Then we will finish off whatever is left of our worn out enemy.

Their defenses had already been roughed up, allowing us to reach the house. The puppets and criminals marched forward, shielded by a variety of golems. The golems were rather low quality: statues of people and assorted animals from dogs to bulls, all made of wood or simple metals. Some were carrying simple artifacts: stone slabs with delayed explosive charms, staves charged with lightning or acid bursts, crossbows with enchanted bolts.

A golem like that took half a day's work for anyone with NEWTs in transfiguration, runes and arithmacy, i.e. all Ravenclaws and a third of other houses' graduates. Pity it was impossible to create an infinite number of golems since they must be charged to work. But here their purpose was limited to setting off traps, distracting our opponents and tiring them out. The golems' numbers were bolstered by fake targets: transfigured from junk statues that fell apart from a simple Finite.

...I had to quit being a spectator and follow the plan. Turning into a jet of smoke with Wings of Darkness, I crossed the battlefield in a blink.

The Eagle Eye had ten experienced mercenaries. After one sabotaged his former friends and left, I was still facing nine strong wizards. Not even mentioning that we were fighting on their territory where they had the advantage of walls, golems, defensive charms, and their source. So there would be no dropping behind the enemy lines on my own. And serious backup was out of question: anyone who had seen me fight before would notice the discrepancies between me and Riddle. I may look like him thanks to illusions, but my muscles and joints remained human, with human speed limits.

What better place to fight unseen than underground tunnels and dungeons? They were full of traps and could collapse or fill with soil at any moment, so sending soldiers there was stupid and wasteful. But a crowd of disposable undead was a different matter. These necromantic creations would cut off the enemy's escape route and divert some attention. Sending them together with regular troops was impractical: the undead were hard to stop from attacking allies.

Our original plan was to send the corpses in and control them from a distance. But I decided to control and lead them personally, leaving Jugson to make sure the enemy would not collapse the tunnels on top of us. In the worst case scenario I could redeploy or have him turn the undead away from me.

I landed by a group of four Death Eaters led by Jugson. Without needing to be told, they aimed their wands at the ground and punched tunnels through to the underground storage rooms. The passages quickly swarmed with a sea of undead: several hundred zombies from my resurrection stone experiments, nearly a hundred inferi, two dementors, eight phantoms and four liches. My humble figure with freshly applied concealment charms got lost in the crowd.

The enemy immediately tried to bury us with dirt and pierce with hardened earth spikes. They crushed several zombies, but it was but a drop in the ocean. We entered the underground catacombs. They had no damp cells or torture rooms, only well-lit corridors and large storage rooms. I noticed bronze golem bases, stacked granite slabs...

The first wave finally triggered the automatic defenses: the doors between rooms locked, the corridors sprouted traps. Several corpses got shredded to ribbons, couple more were doused with acid and turned into useless lumps of twitching meat. The liches and I had our hands full with blasting the doors and casting protection charms on the undead, who continued to steadily advance through the corridors and destroy traps with their bodies. Zombies died incredibly fast, but inferi had exorbitant toughness. They got pierced with transfigured blades, so what?

I sensed the traps but had no time to play a sapper. My blasting curse shattered yet another door, triggering a sudden burst of blinding fire from the opening. I shielded the undead but was too slow: the front line turned into cinders. Well then... Another blasting curse and nullification of magic into the corridor, and carry on, my dead servants... At least most traps got deactivated...

I had to admit this was not a pretty sight. Despite my attempts to reduce losses, the corridors were filled with bodies: crushed, burned, decayed, minced, dismembered... Though objectively, it went well: little over two hundred zombies and nineteen inferi, and we were already halfway there...

While leading the meat shield, I did not forget to keep track of the fight above ground. There, everything appeared to be in our favor: the outer defenses were breached, and our golems reached the house. Over half of the wizards from the third and fourth team were still standing, and none of the marked had yet engaged in a close fight. The enemy reserves and defenses must have been considerably depleted.

Mulciber really was a genius to draw explosive and defense penetration runes on muggle puppets with wizarding blood, turning them into a kind of self-guiding missiles. The defense systems initially avoided hitting the muggles, but after these kamikazes blew up couple of barriers, the defenses registered them as threats and began attacking indiscriminately. Not so the mercenaries: they stubbornly played holy paladins and tried to miss the muggles.

And then the problems started. Their leader, Robert, reached the source. Additional shields sprang up all round the building. He should have done this much sooner, but our defector attached several interesting artifacts to the altar room entrance.

A flash of flame blanketed a 100 by 100 yards patch, burning up golems and several wizards from the third squad. A powerful bolt of lighting hit the eldest Lestrange's location. His shields held. Then there was an explosion- hard to tell how strong as I was still underground, following the battle through our "staff channel" close-range communication charm. But judging by the ward's wobble, it must have been quite a blast. At the same time, the charging golems flew to the side in pieces, as if kicked by an invisible giant. Then the house shot out a cord of energy that started knocking the advancing attackers left and right. It whirled in front of it like a crazed tornado.

Standing over his altar stone, any source owner could feel what it was like to be a powerful wizard. It gave an overwhelming advantage in battle: he could hit hard without wasting an ounce of energy. This was the exact reason long sieges never caught on in the magical world.

The Death Eaters had a worthy countermove. Nott began weaving a spell, using Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Selwyn and Burke as accumulators. The combined power of six pureblood wizards tried to enchain the French' deadly whirlwind and eventually froze it place. It seemed like nothing was happening, when in fact two forces were battling in deadlock. This equilibrium would not last. Live people were unable not hold the spell forever. But drawing blood will allow them to keep going long enough for our purposes.

With the source's deadly attacks temporarily neutralized and much of the enemy defenses destroyed, it was time to release the elites.

New golems began their advance, now including a dozen of two-story tall beasts with their own shields and offensive artifacts. Instead of live bombs and wizard puppets, the vanguard got filled with Death Eaters under command of Rosier, Bellatrix and Dolohov. Mulciber gathered the surviving puppets and leftover criminals, rewarding the cowardly ones with Imperios. The few remaining enemy firing systems got obliterated with High Dark magic. Dementors entered the battlefield under the cover of conjured Antipatronuses.

At the same time, I was stepping over destroyed corpses underground. One of the dementors I took with me relayed an image of three live humans. Our plan assumed no more than two opponents underground... Casting tracking charms in the direction pointed out by the dementor, I found them several turns ahead. Relying on instinct, I filled their position with with conjured spikes, falling rocks and lava. The tracking signal disappeared, indicating their deaths. Too easy for such quality opponents...

" _Still alive,_ " the Dementor warned.

A second later, the wizards launched a counterattack. I was instantly buried alive, pressurized dirt bearing down on my defenses. I parted the dirt with raw magic and returned the corridor to its original appearance. The walls immediately sprouted spikes that filled the entire free space but broke at contact with my shields. I was unharmed, but some 50 undead found their forever peace. The Dementor regenerated and got back in line.

Guiding my aim with impressions from the Dementor, I conjured a Death Vortex at the enemy's location. Several more twirls of my wand gathered the undead remains into a single flesh golem in the shape of a colossal ugly slug. To keep things interesting for my opponents I directed the golem, dementors, phantoms and newly arrived undead their way. I also called back the liches, but they were busy on the back lines, covering the main force of the undead from being crushed.

What happened next was utterly unexpected: my Antipatronus failed. I tried again, but to no avail. I prodded Tom's memory. As the name suggested, the Antipatronus was the opposite of the Patronus: High Dark magic, cast by remembering your most vile deeds to produce a spirit functionally similar to a dementor except for the soul drinking aspect.

Riddle's Antipatronus was a being made of various magical creature parts stitched together, his power and memories making it as effective as a swarm of dementors. That beast cold only be fought with Patronuses, some other Light magic and Fiendfyre.

I had to think fast. If my Antipatronus changed, it would have been understandable. But why did it not work at all? Not even a tiny wisp of black smoke? Heinous acts... Riddle tested a variety of memories and found the horcrux creation ritual to be the most effective. Did it not work for me because the horcruxes no longer existed? Or because I didn't technically make them?

So, what atrocities have I done personally? Killing four hundred captives during my experiments with the resurrection stone should work best.

The spell finally succeeded, but instead of Riddle's monstrosity appeared a thestral. And it felt weaker than Rosier's and Bella's... How fortunate I didn't get busted in front of servants... Strange, most of my Dark magic was as strong as Riddle's...

I sent my Antipatronus to attack. However, my botched magic ruined everything: the plan was for Riddle's Antipatronus to kill all three opponents with support from the undead. But the spell took three attempts, was too weak and too late.

The mercenaries destroyed all eight phantoms with banishment spells. The giant flesh golem slowed down under a shower of transfigured spears, then got cut to pieces with wide blades. Knowing I took the time to put fire-protection charms on the giant flesh bag, my opponents poured dirt over its still moving pieces and sealed it with concrete paving charms. Rest in peace, golem.

The Dementors were the luckiest: faced with three Patronuses, they simply fled. Unlike the undead who were obedient to the end, Dementors followed only when it suited them.

Several front line inferi got hit with full body boneshatters and fell on the ground like jello. A cutting net shredded zombies to pieces. My Antipatronus could have handled a Patronus or two, but it arrived when only the three humans remained standing. Their Patronuses quickly dispelled it. And then, the wizards turned to me.

First I got hit with revealing charms. All my camouflage disappeared, including the illusion of my appearance, making me look human. I reapplied the "reptiloid" illusion, but it didn't take completely, making my face look blurry.

I sent a self-guiding blasting curse back at them - an explosion in crammed corridor should be powerful. They fused the corridor walls on front of them. My curse hit the barrier, its blast wave absorbed by my shields.

One of them returned the tunnel back to normal, the second sent a freshly transfigured bus-size worm golem at me, and the third covered their creation with a universal shield.

Tom's memories promised I could easily defeat five strong wizards. But I had no intention of fighting fairly and hurried the rest of the undead. While they were on their way, I cast a shield penetrator at the worm. A cancellation of transfiguration followed it through the freshly made hole but only managed to break off a piece. When did they have the time to charm it so well?

The worm was approaching me, with one of wizards clearing its path, one stopping me from squashing it with dirt, and the last one holding up a shield. With telekinesis, I pulled multiple "grenades" out of my pockets: rocks, metal disks and pieces of parchment with explosive and magic nullifying runes. I placed them all around the worm, flew far back in a jet of smoke, hastily put up additional shields against explosives and activated the runes. The resulting explosion reduced the worm to dust.

I opened up the passage and sent the new batch of undead ahead of me. The three liches provided cover. They may be weaker and dumber than they were in life, but a four on three fight sounded much better than one on three. I was holding the collapsing walls, the liches were holding the shield, and the remaining crowd of inferi charged forward. I cast a Quietus Wave from the rear- it won't harm the undead, but my enemies...

They blocked my hit. Considering our crowded quarters and the undead's toughness, I expected fire, acid or pressurized dirt. Instead, I felt a tremendous increase of air pressure around us, followed by an abrupt drop to almost vacuum, which caused all the unprotected corpses to explode.

The liches and I bombarded the wizards with killing curses and Imperios, they replied with necromancy blockade, inhumation and killing curses. I took cover from Avadas behind the liches and deflected all the anti-necromancy charms.

One of the mercenaries cast a powerful blood banishing spell. His blood circled around my barriers like an intelligent stream and hit Frank, ignoring all his defenses. The lich dropped where he stood. Well then, down to three against three.

My Fiendfyre was quickly extinguished, but not before it ate through their improvised transfigured shield. They dodged several killing curses, but my Twilight Flame found its target: one collapsed and burned up with a piercing scream. Just in time as more inferi and zombies poured in.

I continued to shower my opponents with curses. They began to retreat, still dexterously taking out inferi one by one. But the undead were too many, and our attacks hindered the wizards' efforts. One of them again turned to blood magic. A thin blood rope shot out of his wand and started chopping up most of the nearby inferi. Slow crawl without legs was not the best tactic...

I suddenly realized I got unforgivably distracted by battle: Robert managed to overcome the standoff and prepared to attack.

The earth went mad and pressed at me from all sides. The same attack by three wizards paled in comparison. I could feel the tension and rapid depletion of my magic. All zombies and inferi nearby got flattened. The shields only saved me, Alice and James.

I put up a Shimmering Sphere and widened it to enclose my liches. With the thee of us fueling the shield, it became a stalemate. We could not repulse the attack, the source could not crush us. This may last a while. My retreat had to wait for the right moment: either the enemy gets distracted with our other forces or the eldest Lestrange will cover me, making redeployment safe and easy. I used the free moment to check on the battle above.

One High Lightning from the source vaporized a nameless Death Eater... Another flew at Dolohov, but he managed to shield; both his shield and the lightning vanished, and Nott immediately covered him from the next hit... Cackling Bellatrix rushed soldiers into the thick of battle, fighting off a firestorm...

In the meantime, I reapplied my concealment charms and illusions, then cut my arm and drained pint of blood. Now the shield was sustained by a large drop of my blood suspended in the middle and slowly losing volume. With a penetrator, I punched a fist-size tunnel in the compressing dirt, turned into smoke and quickly left the kill zone. For the enemy this looked like a failed attempt at escape. I was completely disillusioned, and the shield continued to be powered by three sources: two liches and my blood.

Still invisible, I cast a series of interference charms to cut off the mercenaries' communications and prevent another source attack. They sent a shower of dispelling and revealing charms in my direction, removing everything but facial illusions. I suddenly faced an undead banishing charm and a Patronus - they apparently mistook me for a lich. These charms did nothing, and we proceed to exchange killing curses, deflecting with transfigured shields.

I cast rays of dust and flesh decay curses accompanied by wandless chump change like disarmers and water boilers. Their wands sent an air spear and an electrical charge back at me, all the while trying to cut me up with a blood whip. Everything got bogged down in my shields. But two could play the blood game! I really wanted to test this in battle conditions but had not had a chance until now...

I clenched my left fist, and a sharp wandlessly transfigured fingernail pierced my palm. The blood golem was one of the most dangerous blood magic spells, and I belatedly realized it might go the way of my Antipatronus. But no, the golem appeared without a hitch and did not differ from Riddle's.

A blood golem was a humanoid made of the caster's blood. It could copy almost all of the owner's abilities and act independently, with a strong bend for blood magic. At first glance, an ideal spell: one wizard became two. But like all Dark magic, it had a catch: the golem continuously drained its creator's blood, was likely to rebel, and took as much focus and energy to control as Fiendfyre. But whereas you could escape an out of control Fiendfyre, the golem was tied to you with a couple yard long thread of blood. Its destruction created a rebound massive enough to send you unconscious to a hospital, if you survived at all. The golem was easy to conjure, but banishing took several minutes of wand waving all the while it kept draining your blood. And it was vulnerable to several specialized spells...

England had very few people able wrangle a blood golem: Lord Voldemort, Edward Lestrange, Nott and the Bullstrode family Head. The latter supported blood purity in name only and never offered offered us tangible help.

So, the blood golem was dubious. But at the moment, it was perfect: I had to kill those two quickly, before they restored communications.

The golem immediately attacked one of the wizards with boiling blood and blood needles. I decided to fight the other one myself. He showed obvious skill in blood magic and might know the technique to banish my new ally.

Fighting one on one was more of a breeze. My opponent's transfigured rubble and ripped out pieces of wall would not save him from my killing curses for long. I stopped him from banishing my golem. Dirt spears and an attempt to collapse the ceiling did not impress me. I couldn't destroy the spell structure of his blood whip and simply blocked it.

He made a new cut. Droplets of blood gathered into projectiles and flew at me in jagged trajectories. Multiple direct hits, but my defenses held. I sent the guillotine charm at him. He managed to do something to redirect the charm from his neck, and it instead cut off his wand arm. He should be easy to finish... But his blood whip suddenly went mad - glowed with power, thickened and flew right at me. I threw up an additional blood magic shield, but the pressure only lasted a few seconds. I was expecting a trick, but one look at my enemy revealed that was it: realizing he had lost, he put ALL his blood into one final attack... Just in case, I disintegrated his bloodless body with a corrosive charm.

My golem also won its round. The other wizard was sprawled on the ground after exploding from the inside and looked thoroughly cooked. Another blood boil curse clearly got him...

I soon reached the house. Its solid rock foundation was covered in runes- no chance to break in quietly. The only door was charmed impervious. The golem weakened the door's defense field, allowing me to draw blood runes of magic nullification, aging and erosion. In three minutes it would wither to a sheet of parchment, with the magic emission from my blood almost impossible to detect. In the meantime, I could banish my golem slowly, carefully and painlessly...

I lost contact with Alice- she must have been crushed. Potter still held on, but not for long.

"Lestrange, Robert will soon finish the liches and likely hit you next. Warn the others, especially the ones carried away with the attack." I told the commander.

"Yes, my Lord."

Then my contact with Potter went off. He got crushed as well.

I examined the battlefield. For the most part, everything was over: the Death Eaters overran the house and had no live opponents. The house defenses were at their last breath. The source continued attacking us, but everyone shielded and kept moving. Robert could not keep track of everyone at once, and Nott continued suppressing the source's attacks. The rearguard wizards had plenty of strength left, they only just switched to blood.

"My Lord, he entrenched himself in the locked altar hall. We will get him out soon. All other enemies are dead, the defenses are completely crushed."

I was finishing the blood golem banishment in the basement. The door still held. Although Tom was a master of blood, he disliked pain and tried to avoid using his own blood in spells. He preferred exploding others from the inside with their own blood. But I had to test all available magic in battle conditions. Showing off my golem was not ideal- everyone must believe in the Lord's omnipotence... But Jugson will keep quiet.

"Jugson, what were you doing while I was fighting?"

"We blocked 19 area attacks on you and your liches. I also lead part of the undead out of the kill zone.

Fine, the Cruciatus has been canceled. He apparently was doing his job. And his taciturn nature was a plus.

"Rookwood, this Robert will not detonate the source, will he?"

"We considered it, my Lord. That ritual takes a long time and requires advanced preparations. In addition, we created local interferences in the ambient magic, making an uncontrolled self-expanding release of energy impossible for at least 16 hours."

Good. I had no guarantee of surviving a source explosion, especially after a battle. And it would definitely leave me without an army.

Meanwhile, the door had undergone dramatic changes and now was completely devoid of magic.

"Lanceo!" the cutting curse shredded the door as if it were made of paper.

I walked upstairs.

The house was filled with Death Eaters. The humanoid golems and human puppets that did not participate in the fight had been divided into trophy teams to gather valuables into space-expanded crates. Once in a while one of them would touch a "booby-trapped" item and die, but it had no effect on the overall speed.

The Death Eaters crowded before the warded altar hall. They were chanting spells and drawing runes in the air with their wands and blood. The defensive runes on the walls were dimming and going out one by one, making the ward cycle through colors.

No one has ever been able to destroy a magical source. But the combined efforts of two dozen wizards were enough to temporarily plug it. While Robert's allies and house defenses fought back, he had a chance. Now he was locked in the altar room waiting for the inevitable. I would have loved to keep the source, but subduing it was more than a day's work, and openly staying in France would be difficult. The Aurors will arrive in a few hours, and Albus might decide to poke his long nose here as well.

I wanted to interrogate Robert before his death, he was bound to have some stashes... And knowing how he acquired and controlled the source will come in handy.

But everything went contrary to the plan: a fountain of energy shot straight up from within the room, easily piercing all its defenses. I felt the telltale stir of a nearby portkey activation. The room wards fell. Accelerating and casting revealing charms, I stormed into the room. But it was already empty save for a coffin-shaped cracked slab of basalt spewing up magical energy.

Bellatrix, Rookwood and Dolohov rushed in after me. Bella and Dolohov threw around revealing charms, which persistently said the room was empty except for us. They conjured snow, but there was no one invisible. Rookwood ran up to the altar and began smelling it and poking it with his wand. Rosier soon joined him.

"My Lord, the evidence suggests we now have a "wild source." He was unable to blow it up but somehow destabilized its energy flow and made a temporary gap in our anti-portkey ward," said Rookwood.

Just marvelous. Now one more strong wizard will want to kill me... I would never believe he escaped to live in obscurity and will not try to get revenge... or alert the local Aurors.

"Wrap up all activities, disband the trophy teams and go home. Were you able to gather anything valuable?"

"The bodies of all eight wizards are unusable for necromancy: they had high quality death amulets and drank "necromancy embolus" before the fight. They likely stored valuables in the safe or the warded storage room, but breaching either will take time; a rough break-in is guaranteed to destroy the contents. We only found miscellaneous trifles."

"Finish up fast and return to your bases. Cast Fiendfyre and the Dark Mark as a farewell."

In a few minutes, the Inner Circle and I were back at the Lestranges' manor for a debriefing.

"Report on our losses," I said.

"No casualties among the Inner Circle. We lost a total of six Death Eaters: three from the source's hits, two from the mercenaries, one got distracted looting - caught a curse from piece of jewelry and could not be revived in time. Five out of twenty mercenaries survived. No survivors among the Imperioed wizards, 36 out of 116 muggles are still alive. We lost 543 out of 720 golems. All 4 liches and 8 phantoms were destroyed. Six hundred and thirty out of 815 zombies and 54 out of 96 inferi destroyed. Jugson was able to lead the rest out before the basement collapsed. We also lost three dementors out of 35," - said the eldest Lestrange, - "The enemy lost eight wizards, one escaped. Their defense systems and over a hundred golems have been completely destroyed."

Large losses, but it was all trash: golems were easy to make, dead bodies were abundant, criminals were not a pity - let them earn their pay. Six Death Eaters... I wish I could avoid losing servants...

A fight of this magnitude will make the front page. It was very rare for us to storm a medium source, and this was the first large-scale operation outside Britain. Six Death Eaters was an acceptable price for eight strong enemies, especially in a siege. And the fact that the victory was achieved through canon fodder, a traitor and the element of surprise... We were terrorists, after all, a fair fight was not our forte. Most importantly, no one from the Inner Circle died. They were much more difficult to replace.

All and all, I was satisfied: no one saw my Antipatronus blunder, my dispelled face illusion or slow movement during battle... I should start revising my skills in case there are any more surprises beyond weakened Cruciatus and Antipatronus.

"I am satisfied, my loyal servants. Other mercenaries will understand the danger of working with the Ministry and Dumbledore. Inform Jean that his former leader escaped and will likely seek revenge. Offer him protection for a reasonable price. If Roberts gets in our way, prepare to announce a bounty on his head. Our next order of business is the funeral. They will be burying empty caskets at Godrick's Hollow, guarded by elite Auror units. Dumbledore will be in attendance... Macnair, do you still have that chimera?"

"Yes, my Lord. The beast is exceptionally large and dangerous. Even on a magically reinforced chain, in a cage inside a runic circle, the chimera takes round the clock work to keep restrained."

"Then, my faithful allies, listen to my plan..." I began.

* * *

 **Sebastian Rosier**

Rosier was staring at the ritual material expenditure reports, but at the moment he was not seeing numbers. A single scene kept replaying before his eyes: a massive ward dome cracks and crumbles within a second. If anyone asked him who was capable of that, he would say only the Dark Lord. But he saw a blonde bint do it with his own eyes.

Personally, he wouldn't be able to do it without a long preparation and heaps of material. Nott or Lestrange could, but not with a single spell. His pride was kept warm by the hope that she used some trick or a cleverly disguised artifact... An artifact emitting blood magic signature... The same signature as the Cruciatus on Snape at the meeting...

He already ordered several potions from Snape and asked for "special services." The girl pissed off the half-blood so much that he agreed to help for free... But today's revelation implied that might not be enough. Too bad Rodolphus would notice Felix Felicis...

He began drafting letters of in invitation to his colleagues.. Selwyn will craft him artifacts he could smuggle into the rink. And Burke... Too bad about the wand, but results will be worth it. The favors those two would ask for on top of the money were a tad concerning, but at least the girls' death will be slow and painful. It was not her place to play with the adults.

But as always, it was better to err on the safe side. Thanks to the Dark Lord, he had almost a month to prepare. A month was a very long time for a master in ritual sacrifice. After all, the rules only banned potions and artifacts...

Rosier picked up his quill and started correcting the reports. Now these prisoners were never captured. He could use the extra material himself. His only concern was that the girl might have time to yield and surrender before he kills her...


	15. Tentative Actions, Pt 1

**Albus Dumbledore**

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Order of Merlin (first class), Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, also known as the the most powerful wizard of his time, looked nothing like his usual self. Instead of whimsical bright colors, he wore a dark navy robe. His beard was tied with black ribbons and lacked his favorite chimes. He may have still looked extravagant, but compared to his normal clothes this was an undertaker's outfit.

Albus was attending a funeral at the Godric's Hollow cemetery... His dear relatives rested here. But today, he didn't come here to pay them respects. He was looking at a fresh grave.

An Auror Honor Guard. All the right words. Heartfeltly crying Peter... This grave was only two rows from Kendra and Ariana. The headstone was made of white marble, just like Albus wanted for himself. The Potters would've liked it too. His charms gave it a beautiful glow. Albus didn't need to read the words, he had engraved them himself...

 _James Potter. 27th of March 1960 - 31st of October 1981._

 _Lily Potter. 30th of January 1960 - 31st of October 1981._

 _Harry Potter. 31st of July 1980 - 31st of October 1981._

 _"The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death."_

Burying empty caskets made it all the more heartbreaking...

Albus thought back on the time he faced Grindelwald and won. Back then, he ingenuously believed there would be no more conflicts of this magnitude. But the magical world plunged into war once again. More and more people were dying. The Ministry struggled to keep up. He thought creating a counter-terrorism organization was a good idea and he would do it again in a heartbeat. But it still weighed heavily on his aching soul... Damn that prophecy...

On October 31, 1980, the Order of the Phoenix suffered unfathomable losses... He offered the Potters to hide at Hogwarts or at least provide them with guards. But James was adamant: the enemy would stop before nothing, and when curses start flying innocents would die. The Longbottoms shared this sentiment. Their idea was simple and graceful: hide under the Fidelius rather than behind people's backs.

But Tom was cruel and cunning. The Logbottoms' secret keeper got captured. Albus saw the remains. He hadn't witnessed anything like it since Grindelwald's era... Hard to believe it was once a human. Albus' reason demanded him to blame the secret keeper for giving up the Longbottoms' location, but his feelings vehemently protested. If humans had a limit, the keeper's was exceeded many times over.

And then? Alice and Frank were gifted Aurors. He and Alastor personally trained them. They held their own against Tom for a good while, but it hadn't changed the outcome: multiple traces of the killing curse and Fiendfyre. And Neville... Tom was used to killing every potential threat, only a naive fool could hope he spared the child.

Augusta remained the last surviving Longbottom. Overwhelmed by grief, she accused Albus of her children's and grandson's death, organized a separate funeral at the cemetery next to their family manor, then shut herself in and was refusing visitors.

And the Potters... Again, no leads. Again, traces of Killing Curses and Fiendfyre. Everyone was dead. Tom probably killed them and burned everything down to mock the prophecy, laughing in the face of fate... The Potters also hid under the Fidelius, but who could have possibly guessed Black was a traitor? Albus did not want to believe it. Black seemingly cut all ties with his family... But facts were stubborn things: bloodbath at the muggle office building, over 20 dead bodies... If Black didn't get preoccupied with the sacrifice, Peter would never stand a chance... Albus suspected deception and checked him. There was nothing. No Dark Mark on his forearm, no suspicious thoughts. It truly was extreme luck...

And poor Hagrid. His body was never found, but he most likely perished as well... What wrong did the kindhearted groundskeeper ever do to the Death Eaters?

Severus came back in gruesome condition, with signs of torture and very odd magical exhaustion. He said Tom never intended to spare Lily and tortured him with newly invented curses before showing him Lily's mangled body. Then ordered him to personally burn it... Albus already had two nightmares about this...

Severus barely restrained himself from lashing out at Tom and dying in vain. Now the young man was burning with thirst for vengeance: he offered to help Albus improve his occlumency in exchange for spells and potions capable of defeating the Dark Lord. Naive child, Albus thought. Snape had nothing to teach Albus Dumbledore. As for spells and potions... Albus knew plenty, but they wouldn't solve the problem.

Albus had been searching for Horace Slughorn. That modified memory... He feared Tom had a horcrux. Or worse, several... Killing him had to wait before destroying the anchor... or anchors. If Tom lost his body and was resurrected, it would lead everyone to believe in Lord Voldemort's omnipotence, bolster his ranks and cause mass hysteria. Although, it probably made more sense to imprison Tom and continue searching for his immortality insurance... But this was clearly a task for Albus, not Snape.

The news of the Lord's new fanatic paled in comparison. Her Cruciatus caused Severus to miss half of the meeting, and he regrettably didn't learn of the attack on French mercenaries or Tom's plans for the Potters' funeral.

The Board of Governors kicking up a fuss only aggravated Albus further. First they couldn't spare an extra knut, then suddenly began pushing initiative after initiative! Albus only just finished testing all the new brooms they had purchased for curses. All of the Board's ideas were suspiciously benign, even praiseworthy. Why was Lucius Malfoy installing heating charms throughout the castle instead of trying to oust Albus from the Headmasters' seat? Was he preparing an underground entrance for the Death Eaters? Or planning to sneak in an assault team under the guise of workers?

He was not paranoid like Alastor. The Potters' funeral had Aurors and Hit Wizards in attendance. Alastor, as always, was lying in ambush with two elite squads, expecting an attack that wouldn't happen. Tom may be a psychopath, but attacking such an obvious target was plain stupid. In addition to the Ministry forces, most of the Order came to pay their respects.

Therefore, Albus was incredibly surprised when his scanning charms registered an impeding attack that everyone else had yet to notice. That innocent-looking cloud was a steadily approaching cleverly disguised pestilence curse. Another cloud carried two dozen ball lightnings. Several golems were digging deep underground, probably to plant explosives. And six miles in the air, above the anti-apparition wards, appeared improvised bombs. Erumpent horns delivered by portkey were falling straight at them, now guided only by gravity. Everything had been no doubt set up to hit simultaneously.

The others could easily fend off these mediocre attacks. But since Albus was present, he had to help. One wave of his wand crushed the underground golems and deactivated the explosives. The next sent a ribbon sparkling in magical sight at the cursed cloud, instantly dispersing it. Two more jabs vanished the horns and the lightning bolts.

The lackluster attack addled him. Where were the Death Eaters? Dementors and Tom's Antipatronus? And Tom himself?

Everything cleared up in short order. Through his two-way mirror, Albus started receiving reports of simultaneous Death Eater attacks all over the country.. Aurors needed immediate backup. Albus felt apprehensive about leaving the cemetery: what if the raids were a distraction? But it was all right. If anything happened, the Aurors would notify him, and he'd promptly return. Albus hurriedly added several powerful protective charms, called Fawkes, and disappeared to one of the emergency signals in a flash of flame.

Norfolk. Dozens of figures killing muggles. There were no Death Eaters, only muggles under Imperius shooting a panicking crowd with automatic weapons and shouting "Freedom to Ireland!" Terrible aim, but their numbers and the crowd's size still led to a high number of casualties. Remaining invisible, Albus transfigured all the guns into water and cast self-guiding stunners at the cursed muggles. The stray bullets that reached his shields turned into air. He bandaged all the wounded with another swish, then sent a message to the DMLE and called the muggle police. Legilimency on one of the Imperius victims showed they were nothing more than random muggles placed under Imperius and ordered to attack at the given time.

Albus moved on. Leeds, another large city. Several bus explosions via Imperio'd muggles strapped with conventional muggle bombs. After casting medical charms on the survivors, Albus continued to the next hot spot.

London. A skyscraper filled with pixies. A negligible problem if it wasn't for the fact that they all carried vial-shaped artifacts that continuously transfigured air into poisonous to humans but harmless to pixies gas. Dozens of deaths. And when pixies were surrounded by corpses, they flew in search of more humans to prank... The dead were not coming back, so Albus could only vanish the gas, destroy the artifacts, stun the pixies and send them packed up to the Department for the Control of Magical Creatures. Without delay, he disappeared in the Phoenix flame.

So many innocent lives lost... Albus had to fight the temptation to use his Time-Turner. Playing games with time never ended well...

He didn't get too far down this perilous train of thought before being interrupted by a new urgent message: the Ministry is under attack! All reserves had already been sent out, and the Ministry's two-way wards prevented all direct apparition - security in wartime was paramount.

What was Tom playing at? Yes, he could show up at the Ministry with his lackeys and kill loads of people. But he had not nearly enough forces to seize it and would hardly escape alive...

Fawkes carried Albus to the Ministry Atrium. The picture that greeted them belonged in a muggle horror film. Gory, half-eaten bodies sprawled across the floor. A crowd of witches and wizards trampling each other in blind panic. Chaotically flying spells. People accidentally landing hits on each other, spurring on the stampede. And not a single Death Eater in sight.

The cause of chaos was much worse. A terrible beast raved and dashed all around the atrium with the speed of a racing broom. Elephant-sized, with a lion's head, a goat's body, a dragon's tail... Chimera, a vicious and bloodthirsty rare beast of XXXXX-class, native to Greece. Albus vividly remembered the description from Elphias's letters.

Of course, the number of wizards present in the Ministry on any given day should be able to subdue a chimera even amidst mass panic. But this animal wore a collar and bracelets packed with magic resistance charms. The bright glow surrounding the Chimera in magical sight plainly showed it had been force-fed a cistern of potions and didn't have long to live. But it had more than enough power to demolish everything in its vicinity.

The Aurors on wand-weighing duty already perished. Twenty others who'd arrived as backup were only able to shield themselves. The fireplaces had been cut off from the floo network, no doubt by the enemy.

Albus raised his wand at the Chimera and fired an overpowered modified sleeping charm. It tried to dodge, but the spell connected, breaking a bracelet off its paw. The beast reacted like a bludger meeting a bat: it jumped backwards, then resumed its attack, this time charging straight at Albus. A hail of stunners from the Aurors affected the Chimera like ordinary hail did humans: only angered it. Dozens of cutting curses accomplished no more than scratching its body.

The beast launched itself at Albus, who threw it back with a blasting curse. He pointed his wand at it, pouring extra power into a stunner. The red ray pressed the beast into the wall but failed to knock it out. Still maintaining his previous spell, Albus moved his wand in a circular motion. The Ministry may have been charmed against transfiguration, but not absolutely. Suddenly liquefied walls swallowed the Chimera up to the snout, then hardened just as abruptly. The beast thrashed in a frenzy, trying to break loose. Cracks began to spread from the corner, and the dragon tail was about to burst from under the floor...

Albus enveloped the Chimera in golden flames. It finally stopped moving but remained alive, bubbling with overflowing potion energy that needed an exit. He cast a Shimmering Shield around it not a moment too soon. In total silence, the animal's body exploded into chunky red paste held inside a sphere.

Horrifying diversion tactics... Horrifying atrocities. Albus realized he once again underestimated Tom's malice. And the cemetery stayed quiet...

He hurried to triage the wounded and help with their transport to St. Mungo's. Then he had to investigate whom Tom used to plant the chimera and whom he bribed, threatened or put under the Imperius at the Department of Magical Transportation...

* * *

St. Mungo's received many victims from the Ministry mayhem. It did not take us much effort to obtain survivor memories and copies of official reports. I was immersed in the pensieve, watching first-hand witness accounts of the operation over and over.

In their native range, Chimeras were controlled with highly specialized stationary repelling charms. Not even we wanted to release the Greek magical creature to ravage the middle of London. We took a more sensible route and delivered it to the Ministry atrium via a freight portkey, with the help of an inside man under Confundus.

How did wizards usually fight Chimeras? The simplest solution was flight- pelting it with spells from a safe distance. But the Ministry had no space for broom maneuvers needed to outfly a swift beast that jumped up to 60 feet. Option two: transfigure the surface under it into a swamp. Land-bound Chimeras could not beat physics, but charmed Ministry floors made creating a large deep swamp very difficult. Option three: use specialized charms. But a team of magizoologists or Chimera tamers was very unlikely to wind up at the Ministry. Option four: resort to High Dark magic. Even if those paper pushers knew any, no one would risk a one-way ticket to Azkaban. Option five: overwhelm the beast with a barrage of simple spells like stunners. But good luck landing enough concurrent hits on a chaotically dashing target, especially in a crowd of hysterical civilians.

The Aurors were away responding to other emergencies, the nearest backup at least thirty seconds away. The on-duty patrol barely counted as a snack, so the Chimera would tear apart many more. Still, we took precautions: dressed it in magic resistant artifacts, gave it aggression and defensive potions...

But Dumbledore spoiled the fun. He dealt with all the diversions incredibly fast. Personally, I wouldn't have been able to subdue a Chimera so quickly... Even more astounding was how he did it - not a hint of Dark magic. How did he transfigure such a large portion of the heavily charmed floor and walls? And what was that golden flame? How could I learn to wield it or at least defend from it?

Ultimately, the operation had brought mixed results. I lost any remaining desire to face Albus. Maybe I and the entire Inner Circle could take down one old man... But I better throw in a couple dozen ordinary Death Eaters. And Dementors. And giants. And poison him before the battle. And make sure he comes wandless. Dreams, sweet dreams...

But that was all right. Regardless of his power, no single wizard could stay on top of everything at once. We would suffer much bigger problems if he used harsh legilimency and Cruciatus on suspects or decided to forcefully interrogate all purebloods. Albus's virtue will be his death.

On a more positive note, the Chimera killed nineteen wizards, including seven Aurors. Dozens were injured, ranging from bleeding to torn off limbs. We certainly caused enough terror to make the Potters' funeral a memorable day for years to come.

Pity we couldn't retrieve the animal's body. I would have to buy another in Greece. The enemy was unlikely to fall for the same trick twice, but I needed the extra necromancy practice... Undead magical creatures lost all their magical properties, essentially becoming animated chunks of meat, hence no one bothered with them. But I was still going to try. Experiments demanded sacrifice.

Lastly and most importantly, this stunt had fulfilled my evil deeds quota. I could now fully focus on education without worrying about anyone connecting my idleness on the terrorist front to the Samhain night. Why the idleness? The terrified enemy increased security measures through the roof, so the Lord was obviously busy preparing new brutalities! Why, didn't you notice the steady stream of corpses carried out of the Lestranges' manor?

"My Lord, Ollivander is at last ready to cooperate," Rodolphus interrupted my thoughts.

I had many questions and requests for Ollivander, far too many for one visit. After several days in the dungeons, the wand master looked pathetic: bruised, scraped, dirty... He flinched at the sight of me. But legilimency showed he was hiding something even in this condition... No matter, a couple of chats would remedy it.

"I have questions about wands and wandcraft. Tell the the whole truth and nothing but the truth or else you will be punished. Behave and you may earn a better cell. What are the capabilities of wands? How much more efficient is using a wand relative to casting the same spell wandlessly? Why are wands only made from certain materials? Answer me."

"This is in immensely complex subject. Answers to your questions fill multiple book tomes," he replied. "Early in my career, as I watched my wandmaker father wrestling with substandard wand core materials such as kelpie hair, I conceived the ambition to discover the finest cores and to work only with those when my time came to take over the family business..."*

"Crucio! Be more concise. Write down a list of relevant books with brief summaries. You have a wife and two adult children, do you not? Draft a letter telling them what books to send to the location we will give you. Now, I want short and clear answers to my previous questions."

"Some wands are more powerful in transfiguration, some in charms and so on. The wand's propensity usually matches its owner's. On average, the coefficients of power amplification and magic cost reduction in my wands reach up to ten. Children are able to cast a wandless spell about once a month during so-called spontaneous discharges. Most adults are capable of several average or one powerful wandless spell per day, but very few have the necessary experience and level of control. The difficulty of wandless magic makes it almost entirely useless for civilians. However, a very powerful wizard can cast simple wandless spells with zero loss of efficiency."

He seemed to be telling the truth. Although Ollivander was not skilled in wandless magic, his knowledge made sense: what else to use as a standard for his creations? Like the majority of wizards, a wand master had no practical use for wandless magic. Forgot your wand? Come back for it. Broke it? Buy a new one. In trouble? Call the Aurors...

"What are the abilities of other wand masters, for instance Gregorovich?"

"His wands are marginally more powerful and perform slightly slower."

"Make a list of all the wand masters, their strengths and specialties. Next: are all wands suitable for Dark magic?"

"Any wand may be used for any magic. The key lies with the owner. The wand acts as focus and amplifier."

"What criteria are used to find a matching wand?"

"Each wand has a proclivity for certain types of magic. If the wizard shares it, the wand chooses him or her."

"What do you mean by choosing? Is it alive? Sentient? Be more specific or you will receive another Crucio."

"Ideally, the wand's flow of magic supplements the wizards' own energy. Synergy and resonance. When the wand does not match, these energies conflict and completely block each other. A partial match limits the owner's potential."

"During my very first visit to your shop, you said the wand learns from the wizard, and the wizard learns from his wand. What does it mean?"

"The wand becomes accustomed to its owner's style - habitual gestures and energy transfer. It aims to help and corrects small mistakes."

"What types of mistakes? If wands are capable of learning, why are they not used for centuries by multiple people? Such wands wold be immensely powerful."

"A wand is not intelligent. It is a magical symbiote that can only be attuned to one owner. Wands are sometimes passed down through generations. They can get used to a new owner, but the adjustment process begins anew each time."

I was thinking... Self-learning... Apparently, wand crafters discovered the concept of neural nets.

"Would killing someone allow me to use their wand?"

"Killing is not necessary. An enemy wand taken in combat will obey you. Yet it will never work as well as one you have used for years."

"Tell me about wand cores."

"Dragon heartstrings are most suited for battle and Dark magic, unicorn hair - for Light and healing magic, Phoenix feathers are unpredictable. Hair or body fragments of other magical animals are rarely used because they tend be unstable or result in unpopular combinations."

"Describe the woods."

Ollivander pattered on an on... Nor even Cruciatus diminished his enthusiasm for wands. But I only needed the information to help me learn more about myself, not compete with his family business.

"Write down everything you just said. How many wood types do you use?"

"Forty-four common types of wood. And regarding cores, I prefer the best three but occasionally experiment with others. I also sell leftover wands crafted by my predecessors."

"Now tell me about my Phoenix feather wand. Succinctly and without philosophy."

"Yew wood, phoenix feather core. Powerful and temperamental. Most attuned to Fire, Death, and combat Dark magic."

"The Ministry allows you to sell that?"

"Any wand may be used for any spell."

"You will make a list of every wand you have ever sold along with the names of their owners. Begin with wands inclined to the Dark Arts."

It seemed I found a list of potential recruits.

"Give me a very detailed description of my wand. Is there anything special about it? What yew tree did you use? What phoenix feather?"

Maybe this would shed some light on my differences from Riddle and why the wand stopped obeying me...

"I crafted your wand using the standard process. The result was as excellent as all my other products. I used an ordinary yew branch and an ordinary phoenix feather."

I felt a distinct lie at "ordinary phoenix feather."

"Crucio! Do not attempt to deceive me or lie by omission. What kind of phoenix feather? A rare specimen? An endangered breed?"

Ollivander remained stoically silent.

"Crucio! Legilimens!"

He was decently skilled in occlumency. Part of the memories, no doubt secrets of his craft, were protected by something else. I very carefully wriggled into the memories of my wand. Ollivander usually received Phoenix feathers from Egypt. But here he received two feathers. From Dumbledore...

"My wand's core is a feather of Dumbledore's familiar?! Crucio! Can a wand be traced through a familiar bond with the animal whose body parts are in that wand? Is it possible to explode the core or stop it from working?"

"No! The process of wand creation severs all ties between the core and the donor animal! You cannot be traced, your wand cannot be affected."

His words felt truthful, but I went on to verify them with legilimency. Phew... For a moment, I thought I was Dumbledore's puppet he can blow up at any time. Seeing conspiracies everywhere was a distinct side effect of the Dark Lord profession. Still, I'd have to read the books and scrupulously cross-check everything again in my "night pensieve."

"Where is the other feather? Who bought that wand?"

"No one yet. You likely captured the wand along with my other shop contents."

Wonderful.

"What are its proclivities?"

"Any magic may be done with any wand."

Right. Only with different energy cost. And whereas for simple spells it was negligible, attempting High Magic...

"Crucio! What are the proclivities of the other phoenix feather wand?"

"Fire, Life and Death..."

"Life and death. Are opposite schools normal?"

"Rare, but it happens."

"How many is normal?"

"Usually one or two. Three is less common but far from exceptional. I have never seen a wand with four."

I wonder: would it match me? I quickly searched through his mind for an image of the wand and its box, cast a courier charm and told Rabastan to bring it.

"Does anything unusual happen when these two wands interact?"

"Priori Incantatem..."

I suddenly felt nauseous and heard blood pound in my ears. It would be child's play to duel me, trigger the reverse spell effect, and finish me off while I am disarmed... I could keep throwing wandless stunners for a very long time, but ten or so true combat spells would bleed me dry. Maybe it truly was Albus's plan? Both of these phoenix feather wands must be kept in a secure place!

"Tell me about the wand I am holding."

"Frank Longbottom's wand. Cherry and dragon heartstring. A potentially volatile combination. Inclined towards Dark and battle magic."

"Does it have a pair or contain parts of anyone's familiar?"

"No."

Legilimency confirmed it was true. I could continue using it, then.

"I need a wand worthy of my greatness. You will craft it for me."

"I would need you to remove your defenses. It is the only way for me to see what you require..."

I'd have one of the Lestranges cover me.

"Later. Right now, tell me: why do wandmakers never use metals? Goblin steel? Gemstones? I have come across bone wands in my travels. Can blood be used as a core? The owner's blood or someone else's? Body parts of powerful magical creatures? A Nundu? Chimera heart? Basilisk fang?"

"It is technically possible to craft a wand with metal or other non-living material, but using it will be more difficult than performing the same magic wandlessly. Bone and blood... Their use in wands is forbidden by law. Such wand are powerful but virtually useless for anything other than Dark magic. Powerful magical creature parts leave a magical trace so overwhelming no wood can handle it. I once tried to create a wand with Nundu fragments. Every wood crumbled into dust at the very first attempt to use it; steel and bone failed to work at all. Dragons appear to be the only exception."

"And Basilisks?"

"No idea. England has not seen a basilisk in 400 years, and the Indians refuse to export their body parts."

I'll find you a Basilisk for experiments.

"Why can we not use more than one wand simultaneously? One in each hand would be very efficient."

"The wands connect to the core, not hands. Several wands conflict and begin to explode starting with the most incompatible ones. However, nothing is stopping a wizard from carrying a backup wand in case of disarmament. Most Aurors do. But the magic performed with it is always noticeably weaker."

"What about two wands with cores from the same phoenix?"

"I... I don't know..."

And now, the most important question.

"Tell me about the Elder Wand."

Ollivander's already ashen face somehow turned even whiter.

"Legends speak of an incredibly powerful wand that changes hands through murder. It most likely originated from a cautionary tale about human greed and cruelty. According to the stories, the wand is as powerful as it is treacherous."

"If the wand is so powerful, how are its owners defeated?"

"Usually through deceit or theft. Or murdered in their sleep. If it exists, I doubt it is all-powerful. It probably has an equal inclination to all magic schools and the maximum possible coefficients of spell power amplification, reduction of energy cost and simplification of spell structure creation. I very much doubt it has its own energy core and channels. It would be useless in the hands of a muggle or a wizard with magical exhaustion."

To be honest, the perfect wand sounded very alluring. But it brought misfortune to all its previous owners... Still, I needed it, if only to keep it from the enemy. And to collect the full set of the Hallows... And see what happens. What if I truly became the Master of Death? This was the magical world, stranger things have happened... I already had the stone, though I never did find a use for it. The wand probably existed as well. The cloak... I was going to search for it. Hopefully it ouldn't be a replay of the stone story.

"What does it look like? What would be the best place to begin the search?"

"The only known fact is that it is made of elder wood... Core unknown... Because of the numerous con men and braggarts, its appearance is also unknown. The only common link seems to be its owners' fame and power."

"Crucio! Be more specific! Do you know anything specific about any of the Elder Wand's owners? Any pertinent rumors?"

"There were rumors... Long time ago, at the beginning of the century... that Gregorovich had it... He most likely spread them himself... Good for business..."

Then, Gregirovich would soon take up residence in the adjacent cell. What if he still had it? The Lestranges could watch my back while I visit Gregorovich with new golems and liches... Although, maybe it would be more prudent to go for his family and take them hostage?

Ollivander looked ghastly - I got a bit carried away with the Cruciatus. Time to finish up for today.

"You will write everything you know about the properties and potential of wands. In clear and precise language. Then, an additional detailed report on the two with Fawkes' feathers. And another on Frank's wand. And Dumbledore's. And Moody's. Then put together a list of all your customers and what they bought, starting with those whose wands are most suitable for Dark magic. Lastly, you will craft me a new wand. If you need rare materials -Basilisk parts or my blood- you will receive them after thorough legilimency and vows. And you will only work in my presence. Understood, Ollivander?"

"Yes..."

I called in Rabastan, who had been waiting outside the dungeons with a box. The one with the second Phoenix wand. Well then, there was no other choice but to give Ollivander information about me. I bound and paralyzed him, then scanned the room.

"Rabasan, I am taking down my shields. Cover me."

I picked up the holly wand and waved it. Weak. Better than Alice's but worse than Frank's. Then waved the yew wand. Much better. Waved both at once. Strange feelings... They did not seem compatible, and yet... I'll have to do some thinking, a lot of thinking... But first, go through Ollivander's thoughts. He didn't understand what happened... I partially loosened the paralysis to let him talk.

"Is it normal for twin wands to behave this way?" I asked.

"No... Only one should have responded. But both responded partially. It is very strange."

After Ollivander finished observing me, I left his mind and began reapplying my shields.

"I will be awaiting results, Ollivander."

We left his cell. I held high hopes that Ollivander would make me something worthy. And I needed to find Gregorovich... The Lestranges can search, and I'd participate in his capture... If I forced Ollivander and Gregorovich to work together, would they create something interesting?

Meanwhile, I could use some rest. And Lily needed to see the Lestranges' training hall. I apparated to her.

"Put on your uniform. I will show you the training room and teach you to use the dummies. You may practice weak spells here, but take care not to kill yourself or blow up the house. At the Lestranges', the wards can spot you."

As always, her thoughts were a mess: imagining a public beating with further torture. What would be the point?

"What about the operation? Did any of the prisoners survive? My Lord?"

"Thirty-six muggles."

"Will they be released, my Lord?"

"No. But while they are alive, Mulciber won't go searching for more."

"Is it normal that I had the power to shatter that ward dome? My Lord?"

"You were able to do it because I made you stronger. Do make an effort to live up to your new status. We are leaving."

The Lestranges' training hall resembled a miniature soccer field. I began a chain of basic confidentiality charms.

"Even though no one is going to spy on you here, you must learn these charms. This is how you control the dummies. Channel your energy here. They can't fight, only fire some stunners powered by a basic accumulator. Don't forget to choose their behavior. I recommend the barest minimum and starting with a single dummy."

If the wand chose the wizard, then knowing the wand would tell me the owner's predispositions...

"What is your wand made of?"

"Willow and unicorn hair."

What did Ollivander say... Considering the unicorn's power, we'd soon have a new healer.

"You will come here twice a week. Do not badger anyone, especially not Bellatrix. In case of emergency, feed energy through your Mark to call me. Do not kill anyone. No foolish nonsense like trying to steal Neville- he is in good hands. No gallivanting around the manor: you enter only the apparition platform, corridors, and the training hall. This is an order. Understood?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"Now show me what you can do."

Lily could perform most of the school program, from the tickling hex to Bombarda. Confidently hit still targets, not so much anything moving. Produced silver haze instead of a Patronus. Did not attend the dueling club at Hogwarts. Knew no Dark magic. Had a repertoire of four defensive spells, the strongest one being Protego. In short, she had absolutely no combat value.

But maybe I was nitpicking? For an average Hogwarts graduate and a civilian housewife, it did not look half bad...

Next came the Air Whip, sometimes called invisible whip. It was technically visible - in magical sight. Lily's inability to handle it was glaringly obvious. That won't do. If she used a blood whip, she would kill herself or her allies in two swings.

"Practice until you can hit a moving target while moving yourself. Then you may learn self-guiding charms. Study concealment and defensive charms, at least one of each: Blinding Shine and Universal Shield. Now show me your whip again, after I conjure water that will help you see its trajectory.

A good fighter felt the whip as an extra appendage, minus the pain. But unfortunately, I only had Lily.

With a visible whip, she progressed notably better.

"Change of plans, Elena. You will keep working with the water whip. But do not even think about increasing its pressure, heating the water or imbuing it with magic. Now, repeat everything you just did without holding yourself back."

This time around, the situation looked more redeemable. Her simple spells were rather powerful. Far from Bellatrix's level, but Lily could defeat a low-rank Death Eater... if he stood still... and refrained from Dark magic... Who was I kidding? The only silver lining was that she barely used up half of her reserve in three hours of casting, which would have left an average wizard empty of magic and blood.

"Enough for today. When you leave, remember to erase your spell traces. Until you learn astral cacophony, carefully channel energy into this support beam, and it will do it for you."

"My Lord, do you do act this way with all your servants?"

Insolent girl. But Tom wanted to kill the two children without knowing the full prophecy, and where was he now? Keep your enemies closer... And increasing her power was the most foolproof way to hide her- such a drastic change gave her a completely different signature... And she made an ideal hostage for Snape, who held the key to Hogwarts and a bonus elite occlumency package. And in addition to their money, the Potters were a family of artificers...

"A witch as powerful as you cannot remain neutral. You either learn or be a danger to yourself and others. Magical strength must protected. Our numbers are few as it is."

"I never noticed any special talents in myself. If magical power could be increased like you said, the world would be full of Merlins. Why me?"

"The ritual is extremely obscure, complicated and works for very few people. You are lucky. I tested it on you, and it worked."

"And how many people did you kill for that, my Lord?"

"For that, none. As you witnessed yourself, I know far more than Dark magic."

"Maybe you don't use it at all?"

"I do. Imagine you are attacked by a hundred Aurors. You cast Incendio - they shield with Protego, you continue trading "safe" spells. Take a guess who is going to run out of energy and lose every time. I use spells unavailable to most to take out the maximum number of people with every hit and have a chance at winning. The Ministry bans all spells that make it harder for them to control the herd."

Well, not exactly. Unlike the killing curse, Incendio left a chance at survival. It paralleled the distinction between chemical weapons and conventional bombs in muggle warfare.

"It's not like that at all. And what about human sacrifice?" she continued nagging.

"Sometimes the enemy has an unfair advantage in numbers, magical sources and so on. Then we have no choice but sacrifice something. Our blood. Blood of others. It is simply an additional energy source. If we had a chance to win, we would have never resorted to it."

"It's disgusting!"

"I will bring you Ministry reports from the Department of Mysteries. They dabble in everything, including powerful Dark magic. They simply have more opportunities to hide it and less reasons to use it. In our place, they would do the same."

The Unspeakables did have a Dark Arts department, how else would they get aquarium brains? It was steadily downsized for the past two centuries. The Ministry has not authorized a single human sacrifice in the last decade, and the Unspeakables in that department spent their time collecting dangerous artifacts that were too valuable or too dangerous to destroy. That was where I recruited Rookwood. I should set up Lily to talk to him. And show her the official reports, with slightly modified dates...

"I don't believe you!"

"Believe anything you like. I'll show you their reports and find an Unspeakable to answer your questions. I understand your feelings, but my patience is not unlimited. It is time for you to get started on the werewolf integration project."

Why was she so stubbornly suicidal? I wasn't made of steel.. I'd have my revenge... No, not the Cruciatus.

"I will introduce you to Charles Nott. He is a sane, reasonable man, not at all like Rosier. Be very polite. Have dinner with him and chat a bit. Ask him about his life, work, hobbies. Tell him your legend. Ask about his wife and son, his son's abilities. And in the very end, right before leaving, tell him about the werewolf project. You are forbidden to disclose any information about me, to destroy his property and to attack anyone at his house. It is an order. You have more polyjuice in ampules, correct?"

Lily's thoughts were spinning, fruitlessly searching for the catch... I covered her with double-layered defense charms... With the second layer triggered by a keyword.

* * *

 _**Quote from Pottermore. I omitted much of the wandlore because I'm_ _unsure of the rules on quoting blocks of Rowling's text on FFN. If anyone wants to read it, it's all on Pottermore._


	16. Tentative Actions, Pt 2

**Charles Nott**

Charles Nott was sitting by his fireplace, a still open book forgotten on his lap. He was mulling over the last Death Eater meeting. The Dark Lord bringing him back into the circle of favorites made no sense. Despite Nott's status of one of the first Death Eaters, the Lord listened to his option less and less as the organization grew more radical. No, the Lord did not become any more pacifistic. Nott saw the bodies reduced to pulp. And those were average prisoners... He helped Rosier raise undead for the French base assault. Several dozen bodies were so horribly mutilated they were useless. They had to work overtime to raise phantoms... But why did the Lord move him closer? Gave him new orders? Spared the Longbottom boy?

Without warning, his fireplace flared green and let out two figures. The Dark Lord and his student. Nott started frantically arranging his occlumency defenses. The Lord may be a master of the Mind Arts, but he would not be able to get through during a short talk. Nott put his book to the side and stood up to greet his guests. Even though they came uninvited and unannounced... He had to be polite to the Lord.

"My Lord, it is an honor to see you at my manor. If I may ask, to what do I owe the unexpected pleasure of your visit?"

"Hello, Charles. Unfortunately, I am in a hurry. I am here to introduce you to my student. She wanted to speak with you. Tell her about our organization and goals. And about yourself. Charles Nott, my loyal ally, one of the original Death Eaters. We have known each other since Hogwarts. Elena Ivanova, my student. She can share tidbits of her biography herself if she chooses. I must head back and start on Malfoy's reports."

And the Dark Lord disappeared in the fireplace. It was a bewilderingly polite greeting. Charles was thinking how he should interpret being addressed as "ally" instead of "servant." But that had to wait. He would have accepted if Elena asked for an audience. Though cursing Snape was excessive, her heart was clearly in the right place.

"Would the lady like to join me for dinner? I am sure we can discuss everything over a fine meal."

In addition to house elves, Nott employed several trusted servants under vows. As they were setting the table, he was silently scrutinizing Elena. She looked just like she did at the meeting. Same amulets and shields. When the food was finally served, all her defenses aside from anti-scanning charms went off. Incredibly strange. The usual protocol was to roll down only a part, to be able to put it back up in haste. Without persistent shields, a wizard was incredibly vulnerable to a sudden attack.

Was it a sign of trust? A hint at candid conversation? Next to that, the fact that she used the wrong cutlery looked insignificant. Who knew what customs they had in Russia? Besides, as the Lord used to say back in his youth: "As Tom Riddle, what I do is unimportant; as Lord Voldemort, I make my own rules..."

Caught up in his thoughts, Charles missed the moment she began eating. Usually, everyone checked their food with spells or artifacts. Fist brawls were muggleborn territory; purebloods favored poisons to win before the fight had a chance to start. But she ate and drank with absolutely no safety measures! Sure, he was not suicidal enough to try poisoning the Dark Lord's student. But why would she not check her food?

A cleverly disguised artifact? She might be under a powerful anti-scanner charm, but this was his house. Charles reached for the manor's defenses and focused on the guest. Nothing had interacted with the food... What if the Lord accused him of poisoning her and killed him for it?

"Dear Elena, allow me to check your food."

Charles cast a couple of diagnostic spells.

"Is it to your satisfaction? If you wish, the cook will swear a vow that it includes no extraneous substances."

"No, thank you. I am satisfied."

What did it mean? An insinuation of alliance? A provocation? He did not know.

After the dinner, he gave her a customary tour of the part of the manor that was open to guests: sunny, spacious halls with ancestor portraits. He was still further confused when she hadn't reapplied the shields but had to carry on the idle conversation... Recounting amusing stories from Hogwarts, like the time they mounted a hippogriff and tried to fly, belatedly realizing it was still tied to the ground...

"Do you use Dark Magic?" - Elena asked out of nowhere.

What a bizarre question.

"Well, I do not advertise my illegal skills. But all our people know I am a Master of Blood. I am also proficient in Necromancy and combat Dark magic."

"Do you have prisoners?"

"No. And even if I did, they should not be killed for sport."

Charles immediately noticed he said something wrong. Attempting to recover from this blunder, he began asking Elena about herself. She said nothing concrete: marriage, husband's death, studying under the Lord. He did not dare try legilimency- she had good amulets and could be a good occlument. Besides, he could accidentally learn something highly protected and die.

"If I may ask, what is the Dark Lord teaching you?"

"I cannot say. It is confidential information."

As expected.

"And what is your combat potential?"

"The Dark Lord ordered me not to disclose it."

"Your duel with Rosier is less than a month away. I would recommend surrendering before stepping into the rink. No one is doubting your talents, but Rosier is an extremely powerful and accomplished fighter."

"Let's not discuss this."

Very haughty of her to think she will beat Rosier. But Charles warned her, so now she could do what she wanted.

"I heard you have a child?" she pried.

"Yes. Theodore Nott," he did not like where this was going.

"And what talents does he have?"

How crass. Aside from accidental magic, a child's potential could only be determined with banned rituals. And checking a two year old was complicated.

"His full potential is yet to be determined. But he definitely inherited the family gift of blood magic."

"And what of his mother?"

Charles was liking this conversation less and less.

"She died. A rare disease."

"Why did you not cure her? Didn't find enough material in time?"

Now this was just out of line! Presumptuous and, considering that she was standing in his house with no defenses, stupid. Was the Lord setting him up to kill the girl? It would give him the perfect excuse to kill Nott as a punishment...

"I found the material and prepared the ritual. But my wife refused to live with the price. I let everyone go. And she... she died."

"You made a mistake."

"That is my personal business. Why are you asking?"

She stayed silent. And Charles had an epiphany. Eating and drinking everything was foolish, except for Masters of Blood. Prancing around a stranger's house without defenses was foolish, but for a young and beautiful woman it may be a form of sexual innuendo. Two blood masters would be guaranteed a talented offspring... But however starved Charles felt for a woman's touch, he had long ago stopped thinking with his other head. Sleeping with her was a terrible idea. No one knew exactly how close she stood to the Lord. Another expendable soldier? Lover? Daughter?! She was the first to ever receive the status of his student, so her loyalty must be extraordinary.

And so, Charles launched into a long, rambling monologue. If you stripped off all the polish - he was in mourning over his wife's death. Indefinitely. And could not reciprocate anyone's attention.

Elena looked like she did not understand a word he said.

"It is time for me to go. I have a busy schedule and am running late," she said.

Clearly, she understood everything. There was a sudden colorful explosion in magical sight. In a blink, Elena was covered with shields and concealment charms that almost matched the Lord's.

"I have an assignment for you. You must draft a legislative proposal of werewolf integration into the Magical Britain. Think of suitable lands to offer them, what to teach them and how. I will curate the project."

"Are you certain you can give me orders?"

"It is the Dark Lord's will. Ask him if you like. Please show me to the floo."

When his guest left, Nott stood pensive in front of his fireplace. A bill aiding werewolves... Everyone hated werewolves, this was a loud and clear political suicide. He sighed and threw a pinch of floo powder into the fire.

"Lestrange manor!"

He was already expected.

"Rodolphus, is the Lord in?"

"Yes."

"Can I see him?"

"Wait here, I will ask."

After receiving an affirmative answer, Nott entered the study where the Dark Lord was looking through stacks of papers.

"My Lord, regrading your student..."

"Did she cruciate you?"

"No, my Lord."

"So she does like you... Tell me what you thought of her."

"She behaved very oddly. Asked about my abilities, my child, my departed wife. Walked around my manor without shields..."

"Your conclusions?"

"She must be either an incompetent moron, which is unlikely since she is your student.. Or she is interested in me."

"Masters of blood are rare."

Being treated as a breeding bull didn't sit well with Charles...

"My Lord, she said I must draft a werewolf bill. Under her supervision."

"Then you will. This project is long overdue. And she has no political connections or access to property records. You will help her."

Meaning do all the work and take all the heat at the meeting?

"If I may ask, what is going to be her contribution?"

"She will kill anyone who votes against it."

An unexpected answer... Charles considered asking what she was to the Lord, but he already knew the answer: Crucio. If the girl was a dud, Rosier would kill her. But if she turned out not so hopeless and smarter than she appeared, Charles would be more than willing...

* * *

That was it. Lily played her role to perfection. What's funnier, she had no clue what she had done. Nott interpreted all her fumbles very one-sidedly. And now Snape will have rival. The more servants schemed against one another, the better for the master. And if "Elena's" life was ever endangered, Nott would try his best to save her.

After making sure only the Lestranges remained at the manor, I called Wormtail. He was a relatively useless employee who defected to me in fear. I did not even get a chance to cast one tiny Crucio - he betrayed the Potters under the first threat. Always in his friends' shadow... His thoughts reeked of self-pity.

"Peter Pettigrew, Order of Merlin, third class. "

"My Lord..."

I plunged into his mind. Lily's memories of the "maradeurs'" exploits promised a trove of useful information. For instance, Hogwarts hidden tunnels. But Albus may be aware of his students sneaking out to Hogsmeade and monitor the entrances... Did I really have to watch seven years of mediocre school life only to give the information to Snape?

"I need you to draw me a map of all the secret tunnels leading to Hogwarts. You will be properly rewarded."

"My Lord, a map like that already exists. The Marauder's Map. With all of Hogwarts grounds, and the secret tunnels, and people labeled with moving dots. James, Lupin, Black and I made it."

Legilimency confirmed it was true. Fascinating... Only the Headmaster should have such an artifact... Potter and Black were powerful wizards. I have never seen Lupin. This one was average. How did they create it?

"Bring it to me."

"Filch confiscated it..."

Too bad. But I had Snape.

"Is there anything I need to be aware of while using it?"

"Touch it with your wand and recite " _I solemnly swear that I am up to no good_." To hide its contents, tap it again and say, " _Mischief managed_."

"How did you craft it?"

"We all worked on it, but James applied the final charms. Alone. He said his relatives would skin him alive if they knew, and that he was under a vow that stopped him from telling anyone how he did it."

How curious... What secrets did the Potters hide? Human sacrifice? There have been no deaths at Hogwarts since my Chamber incident. And the headmaster would certainly not miss it. An apparently effortless method for creating high quality artifacts was worth looking into... Not to mention real-time recon of Hogwarts...

"Peter, do you understand that you will never be welcome on Albus' team now?"

"Yes, my Lord.."

"How would you like to earn more glory and riches? The second class of the Order of Merlin?"

"What would I have to do?"

"Perform a heroic deed, of course! Kill a couple of monsters. Save people from werewolves in a public place."

"Will I manage?"

"Absolutely. I will speak with Greyback. Some werewolves are dissatisfied with him. With the help of Snape's mind-altering potions, they will tear into the victims and each other alike, allowing you to heroically defeat them. Just a word of warning: one of them will be your former friend Lupin."

"M-my Lord?"

"No matter what you do, they are all going to die. This way, his death will serve a purpose and elevate your status. You will kill Greyback's top spy and become a celebrated hero. The most important part is baiting him. You will invite Lupin to a pub, to drink for the repose of James' soul."

My plan was brilliant. The Order would lose a member. Lupin was Albus's attempt at proving the werewolves' humanity. He even owned a legal wand and finished Hogwarts - an unthinkable privilege for a werewolf. And a Gryffindor, too. When even Albus's poster werewolf turned out a bloodthirsty monster... And if I timed it just right, close to the hearing of Lily's bill... And Peter will become a true hero. It would be one thing for Elena to kill Peter the unknown halfblood and completely another to kill Peter the defeater the Dark Lord's right hand Black, the defeater of Greyback's right hand Lupin, Order of Merlin of every class, and so forth...

After giving Peter instructions, I sent him back. The next full moon was fast approaching, and I needed to talk to Greyback... And Snape... While they were on their way, I had plenty of financial reports to keep me occupied.

Snape arrived first.

"My Lord, I am at your service."

"How is your mission progressing?"

"Poorly. The Slytherins continue boasting about their heritage, everyone else continues hating them for it. Hogwarts is impenetrable. When I told Albus I wanted to kill you, he dismissed me, saying it is beyond my power."

Horrible. Just as I expected. But Snape will rein in his house sooner or later. Infiltrating Hogwarts... If we will not find any secret passages or artifacts, the Chamber might be worth trying: the basilisk could not survive on rats, so there must be an exit to the forbidden forest. As for Albus not believing in Snape's usefulness... We would stage a dramatic show. Snape defending mudbloods, Snape rescuing the Dark Lord's prisoners, Snape getting leads on Elena. Perhaps I should include Lily, to show her more proof Snape and I were not evil...

"I did not expect instant results. You have another assignment. Get friendly with Filch and discreetly look around his office. You must bring me this map," I conjured a copy. "And now, sit down. Let us refresh your vows."

Having finished with Snape, I invited in Greyback.

The origins of werewolves were shrouded in mystery. Whatever was the cause of their condition, it resulted in XXXXX- beasts with prey drive toward humans. A werewolf went down from one killing curse, but its speed and maneuverability made it a very difficult target. And many weaker spells simply bounced off their tough hides.

In their human form, the only advantages were slightly improved hearing, speed and strength. Some legends spoke of werewolves who learned to subdue their beast, resulting in the ability to turn at will and maintain the human mind in wolf form. Tom had never met one. But he was very familiar with another option: embracing the beast, turning at will at the cost of losing all reason and becoming a deranged maniac as a human.

One of the latter kind now stood before me. Transformed, Greyback was one hell of a monster. But even as a human, he could rip apart a hippogriff with his bare hands.

"Greyback, I am aware of your dream: creating an army of werewolves to slaughter wizards. And I like the sound of it. But you are making a crucial mistake."

"My Lord?"

"You are producing too few werewolves.

Listen to my plan. You are going to gather a dozen of loyal werewolves, the kind that don't care who they turn. Bring them to the base right before the full moon. We will securely restrain all of you with potions, chains and artifacts..."

"My Lord, did I do something to anger you?"

"Not at all. During the full moon, we are going to levitate you the material to bite, both wizards and muggles. We will make sure they survive and offer them to join our ranks. Those who refuse will be portkeyed to our enemies on next full moon."

"But my Lord, who will take down the defenses? The werewolves will gut everyone in sight..."

"Despite all their talents, werewolves can't fly. The Death Eaters will be high above on brooms and release them from a safe distance. Then, the werewolves will be free to gut everyone on the ground."

And I would have a surplus of cannon fodder. This prompted an interesting question: how many could one werewolf turn in one full moon? But even one per month would be great because the newly turned will be ready to spread the curse next month. Whereas Aurors took years to train, I would have a new batch of werewolf reinforcements every month! Werewolves may not be team fighters, but we could always use extra manpower.

As a bonus, this will intensify the persecution, maybe even to the point of genocide, and push all the survivors into my ranks. And after the war... Greyback would become a legendary hero who died fighting for their freedom.

"Go and find werewolves who will be willing to turn people indiscriminately for the war effort. Dismissed."

Enough scheming, it was high time to focus on magic.

Disillusioned, I went to Rabastan's class. Poor guy: he finished Hogwarts yet had tutors in almost every subject. The teachers worked diligently for their galleons, giving him regular homework and tests... And Rabastan did everything without complaints, for the benefit of my charade.

I arrived just in time for the "Rabastan vs. Healing Magic" class. My plan was not to master everything. That had to wait until I secured a safe eternal life. For now, I wanted to learn to win and kill with something other than Dark magic. For instance, this appendix removal spell. Slightly butcher the pronunciation, send it to the wrong coordinates - and you could remove the heart!

I took care to avoid the trap of acting like the smartest person in the room. On my orders, Rabastan demonstrated little "levity," which sent the teacher into a rant with graphic examples of the most fatal mistakes. He even gave references to books dedicated to "what not to do."

Sure, healing magic promised no leads for a super weapon. These spells were created for use on unshielded patients and some were prohibitively slow... Bur muggles had no shields, and I would cast fast. Very fast. Skipping all useless wand movements. So what if the incision was too deep? Or dislocated major joins? My goal was killing, not healing. For example, a botched bone mending charm could vanish all the bones! How long could one survive without a skull? And it was not anywhere near Dark magic!

Aside from surgery, healing magic had other fascinating areas. I was especially curious about sedation and pain-relieving charms. A single hit should leave a weak wizard rolling on the ground in ecstasy or drop him unconscious, leaving me free to finish him off at my leisure. Naturally, it only worked against simple shields. But I had to start somewhere before developing a stronger, defense-penetrating "curse." Death from pleasure... What to call it? The Curse of Ridiculous Death? Eternal Anesthesia? My test subjects would definitely have fun.

So many ideas... After the war, we would need something to bargain with muggles. Resurrection? Exclusively for me. The Elixir of Life? Maybe for Bellatrix and most faithful servants. What to offer muggles? Ideally, new magical drugs! Or a pleasure spell causing dependence... It would be great practice for my youngest recruits and reward for loyal muggles.

Rabastan's next teacher lectured him in Light Magic. Here, Rabastan was stronger than me, whilst far from being scholastically brilliant himself. Aside from the Patronus, I could only do the bare basics. But I was still going to practice. If it turned out a complete failure, I would at least be aware of the enemy's potential. The teacher has never heard of the golden flame and recommended a list of literature that may reference it. Better than nothing...

For Dark magic, I had been reviewing books in my improvised "night pensieve" and practicing on prisoners. Everything turned out much better than my Antipatronus suggested. Most of my Dark spells hit as they always had, but anything directly tied to emotions (that is, the majority of torture curses and some offensive spells) came out significantly weaker. Although, "weaker" was not the right word... Tom had an immensely disproportional talent for emotion-based spells. Mine weakened but still surpassed any other Death Eaters'.

I have been mulling over this problem for the last few days... Tried evoking fear, anger and disgust with legilimency. Drank potions that inspired aggression and malice. Injected muggle-synthesized hormones. Yes, it affected my behavior. Corpses were piling up. But it looked like magic could not be fooled: the feelings must be truly your own...

In my last life, I was a staunch materialist and believed in the empirical picture of the world. All feelings were supposed to directly result from the brain and hormone activity. But manipulating them did not help me cast stronger Dark magic or conjure a stronger Patronus...

Technically, I already had a proof of the existence the soul: my appearance here. And Riddle's horcrux creation. The problems lied in the soul's absolute invisibility to any known magic.

Dumbledore loved pontificating about the power of love, that murder mutilated the soul and so on. Tom always dismissed it as delusional ramblings. But it made me think... The horcrux ritual required murder, so if murder did not split the soul, there must at least be a connection.

Obviously, not every murder qualified... Otherwise, the Aurors and muggle armies would be filled with lunatics like Tom. And Despite Moody's best attempts to apprehend first, he had killed a ton of people, yet no one considered him a Dark wizard...

Maybe Albus avoided Dark magic because it conflicted with Light spells, which he valued more? What if his "Power of Love" was more than just rhetoric? I needed to find a way to test it. I already had some ideas. Very specific ideas... But they had to wait.

My thoughts turned back to the most poignant subject: my soul. The soul existed, and I had to find a way to work with it. How to test something you could not see, feel or interact with? Any data I received would be useless without a point of reference.

So far, I only had two ideas. One was extremely unappealing, but I would probably end up resorting to it. The second... compared to the first, it was the epitome of kindness and simplicity: using Dementors, the most obvious soul specialists.

Once again, I was in the dungeons getting ready for an experiment with several immobilized, fully conscious prisoners and a Dementor.

There were very few effective ways to fight a Dementor, let alone slay one. They burned in fire, albeit badly, and kept regenerating. A corporeal Patronus repelled them, a powerful one could even destroy a lone Dementor. They were also affected by other Light spells, but not anywhere near the extent of the Patronus.

Dark wizards like me had Ekrizdis's Touch, Ekrizdis's Shackles, Ekrizdis's Arrows and a couple more. Fighting Dementors with Dark magic was much more grueling - I could handle ten on a good day.

Were they technically undead? Magical creatures? It did not matter. Dementors understood human languages and obeyed those who benefited them or posed a significant threat. They communicated in mental images and possessed some intelligence, sufficient to tell apart the humans they must obey.

And now I was trying to explain to the Dementor what I wanted it to do. No, they easily understood simple orders like go there, kiss this one or guard that spot. But how to explain "suck out only part of the soul"? I felt like a tourist who caught a jellyfish and was explaining to it how to swim. The Dementor did not understand, maintaining it could only "drink the whole soul or not at all."

When I asked it to describe how souls tasted, the nonsense it spouted made centaurs seem articulate in comparison. Then, I would just have to copy its experiences with legilimency. Interpreting these impressions was a problem for later.

In the meantime, ten immobilized muggles and one wizard were awaiting their turn. If it weren't for occlumency, I would have gone mad from feeling their emotions through the Dementor... A psychedelic cocktail of sensations... Maybe I could sell it as an elaborate hallucination?

Time to get started. First, I wanted to try crippling some prisoners with healing magic. For example, the vomit-inducing charm. What if I added more energy? The subject began vomiting blood. An opportunity to test Evanesco as well, then. Why did it not vanish living beings regardless of power I poured into it? Next, the blood clotting charm. Without a wound, what do we get? Embolisms. I tried to save the patient but was too late... Dementor, kiss this one. In magical sight, the kiss looked no different...

Attempting to decipher the Dementor's feelings during feeding was a total failure. I needed more data to compare the souls.

Next patient. An overdose of cheering charms obstructed breathing. You may have him, Dementor... I tried the scalpel charm on the corpse. With additional energy, the scalpel became a sword. It cut through the body with flying colors but clashed against the simplest shield. Pity.

Next. Anesthesia charms. This one got lucky. Legilimency showed he was high over the rainbow. And if I shielded him? Anesthesia charms did not go through the universal shield and most others... Too bad. Now, the bone mending charm. Excessive power vanished bones from the entire upper body. Surprisingly, the subject did not die instantly. Dementor, enough gorging on their emotions, kiss this one before it is too late.

I was thinking. Riddle preferred burning the enemies to ashes. Why? Burning only the head or vanishing all the bones was just as lethal. I remembered that one time during transfiguration class when someone got onions sprout from his ears... It could have easily been bamboo shoots in the opposite direction, piercing the brain... I needed a list of mistakes in school spells, right away!

All too quickly, I was down to two captives: a muggle girl and an adult wizard. Though, what wizard? That worthless driblet of power hardly qualified as magic. I put him under a mild pain curse.

"Do you know who I am?"

He may not have been able to nod, but he clearly knew I was "You-Know-Who."

"I am going to free you and give you a knife. You will use it to kill this girl. In return, you will get to keep your soul."

As soon I set him loose, he tried to cut his own throat. I stopped it with telekinesis, hit him with a Crucio, then an Ennervate. He finally stabbed the kid. I kept the Dementor away, making sure she died from the wounds.

Now, Perfecticus at the wizard and order the Dementor to try his soul. Would a newly minted murderer taste any different?

"Did all the souls feel the same to you?" I asked the Dementor.

" _All souls are different._ "

"What about the last one? Does the soul of a wizard or a murderer stand out from the rest?"

" _All souls are different in different ways_."

More tests, then.

"I will show you something. Watch but do not attack."

My snake Patronus protectively circled around me as I carefully rolled down all mental shields. A flood of painful memories came crushing from all sides... The orphanage... Horcrux rituals...

"Do you sense me?" I asked.

" _Yes_."

"What does my soul feel like?"

" _All food is unique. Only consuming it allows me to know the details._ "

Well, that was never going to happen. Only one test left.

I immobilized the Dementor with Ekrizdis's shackles. It should contain ten freshly consumed souls. An autopsy might show what they look like...

After two more hours of work and telekinesis practice, I became the owner of a disassembled Dementor. Its flesh resembled a solid mannequin with strange interconnecting tubes inside. I have not found any souls. Either it immediately digested them, or they disappeared... The experiment will have to be repeated... Then carefully and thoroughly compare the results...

The eldest Lestrange was waiting for me outside the dungeons.

"My Lord, the information on Hogwarts diplomas you ordered was just delivered. Everything is in the large parlor."

I nodded and went straight there. The room was filled with space expanding bags holding copies of OWL and NEWT essays from the last hundred years... This would take a while.

Two series of charms later, I was surrounded by ten multicolored orbs that could compare the writing samples. Following the searching charms' orders, ten conjured humanoid puppets began taking out the papers. Actually, a single one of those earned a NEWT in transfiguration and charms... I was only an imbecile in Light magic, not anything else!

I pulled out R.A.B.'s note.

"Search for a match to this. I will make copies for each of you," after cutting out the part about horcruxes and 'mere mortal'. "Place complete matches here and partial matches in this corner. Get to work."

They will last several weeks. I didn't trust house elves or humans, and the Lestranges will stay out of here on my orders.

And here was the first result: Rinaldo Augustus Burke, OWLs of 1856, 34% match. Very unlikely, keep searching. I would check back in a week or two.

I needed to truly rest and think. Maybe try conjuring an Antipatronus with new memories with the Dementor...

But for now, I'd read at the Lestranges' library. Last time I noticed a very interesting book: _Cursing a Whole through Its Part_. Illegal to possess, of course. Cursing humans was old news. That was the exact reason why no one in their right mind left hair, nails or blood lying around. At the moment, I was more keen on finding out how to curse a phoenix. I just so happened to have two of Fawkes' feathers...


	17. A New Use for the Mirror of Erised

The full moon has finally come. Ten werewolves, including Greyback, made their contribution to bolstering my servants' numbers. Greyback managed to turn five muggles by himself, the rest turned two or three each. In sum, I gained 26 new werewolves who will be able to transform within a month. The rest of the bitten received various degrees of magical wounds but would never become werewolves. Not too bad.

Lucius at last began producing results. For a hefty sum, he hired Rita Skeeter to dig up dirt on Albus. The truth and anything we could reasonably pin on him. So far she only learned that his father died in Azkaban, where he was incarcerated for attacking muggles. And she was getting close to Bathilda Bagshot. Any progress was good news.

We had prepared two inflammatory articles for print. "Criminal Restrictions on Self-Defense" described how easily the wizards would have defeated the Ministry chimera if they were allowed to use banned spells. "The Grand Failure of the Ministry" shed light on the high casualties among muggles. The echoes of French protests and their demands to allow French Aurors the authority to operate on British soil and investigate Death Eater activities already began rocking the chair under the Minister of Magic Millicent Bagnold. We needed to choose a puppet to replace her.. But the first priority was removing Crouch, the current number one candidate.

Snape also started to justify the confidence I placed in him. He quickly found the Marauder's Map and took it out of Hogwarts. It went unexpectedly smoothly: Hogwarts wards should have detected an artifact crossing them but for some reason completely ignored the map.

The map displayed all hidden entrances and all people, even the Headmaster. It emitted no Dark magic, I checked... Either I was missing something important or Tom jumped the gun killing James Potter who was apparently a genius artificer. I better show the map to Selwyn or Burke, maybe they could tell me how it was created. So far my only hypothesis was that Dumbledore made the map himself and gifted it to the "marauders."

For now, it would stay on Edward's desk, where charms recorded its activity 24/7. We already knew every dating couple and all the strangers periodically visiting the castle. The visitors were likely Order members, and we began searching for them by name. They appeared infrequently, meaning the Order's headquarters was somewhere other than Hogwarts.

I started my occlumency lessons with Snape's strange method. It lacked the traditional walls, endless labyrinths or oceans. There was no controlled schizophrenia or parallel personalities. The key lied in clearing the mind to an absolutely extraordinary degree. This resulted in something similar to the empty void of outer space: impossible to hold on to but not putting up any resistance. And in that void, you constructed anything you wanted to show. If someone broke beyond the picture, they saw nothing but emptiness. Incredibly easy in theory, just as incredibly difficult in practice... Snape showed and explained the best he could. I legillimized him over and over and examined it from the inside. There was only one issue: testing it.

Only experience could tell how well I was using the defense. Letting anyone into my mind was out of question. But a stroke of sheer luck found me a perfect legiliment incapable of betrayal.

The Mirror of Erised. It was clearly a powerful mental artifact that scanned the human mind for the deepest desire and displayed it. Occlumency or mind-shielding charms could stop it from working. I was going to try to fool the mirror with Snape's method.

It was a courtesy of the Hogwarts Board of Governors. During the most recent inspection, they began implementing the new policy of "removing artifacts that pose danger to children." Most were useless trinkets like miniature bludgers or quills that turned into poisonous frogs. But some pieces were worthy of attention. Like the Mirror of Erised. What was it doing at Hogwarts? One of the teachers found it during a sabbatical? The runes professor was researching it? Albus gazed in it every night in search of inspiration for his outfits?

The Mirror was confiscated and sent to the Department of Mysteries. Most teachers even voted for it. And on the way to the Ministry, it somehow got mixed up with a cheap replica that showed everyone's reflection as rich and famous. It should take the Unspeakables a while to notice the fraud. And when they do... They will either cover up their mistake or decide Hogwarts originally housed a replica.

Snape also brought information on Rosier's order of high quality combat potions. Acceleration, magic resistance and many more... We were not having a sport duel but a competition to settle who was best. That included being the best at preparing and getting away with cheating. After that list of potions alone, Rosier will spend a month in bed even if I don't land a single hit. And he also planned to poison me before the duel... It felt good when someone took you so seriously. Severus hinted that he did not know the exact details, but Rosier was brewing something else by himself and working with another Death Eater. Even better for me: I won't win too easily and make everyone suspicious. It was going to be fun.

Snape got over his magical exhaustion and has been teaching Lily twice a week. I watched their first lesson under invisibility charms. Lily yelled plenty of insults, but there were no Crucios from either side. She followed Snape's directions rather well.

I made Lily a gift for her second lesson with Snape. While she slept, I borrowed some of her blood and mixed it into her wand core. As a result, her willow and unicorn hair wand could now only be used for Dark magic.

She found out during her practical lesson when she could only cast Sectusempras. Not even summoning charms worked... So she began using her trophy wand. What? I had nothing to do with it. New life, new wand- you simply changed too much. You Crucio'd Snape with so much passion that it corrupted the unicorn hair... A claw is caught, the bird is lost.

And now I was standing in a securely warded room at the Lestrange manor. No need to fall into a habit of conducting experiments at my own house. The room was empty, save for the Mirror of Erised. It was a truly exquisite artifact: nearly ten foot tall mirror in ornate gold frame, standing on two clawed feet, the upper part of the frame engraved with the phrase "Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi."

It would take much more than some words written backwards to put me out of countenance, but the mirror's aura felt uncomfortably strange. Magical sight revealed its attempts to get into my head. I already checked it with wizards, muggles and spells. It was completely safe. Or rather, it did not affect magical power or physical health. Whoever was careless enough to go mad from its visions had it coming.

I stood before the Mirror but saw no reflection: occlumency and shields made me invisible to its legillimency. I had a bad feeling about this... But Rabastan already tried and saw himself the Minister of Magic with no consequences...

I took off the layers responsible for deflecting mental attacks, then released my occlumency defenses. What did I expect to see? Myself powerful and unstoppable, with godlike abilities and immortality. But instead...

People looked into the Mirror of Erised and saw their most desperate hopes. They spent long, lonely years searching for something their lives were missing... And found fulfillment in its reflection. Was the mirror a morbid joke or a weapon? The number of people it drove mad must rival the Resurrection Stone.

I raised my hand and touched its surface. The picture did not vanish. My eyes were shining brightly, hands were trembling.

So this was what Lord Voldemort truly wanted? My deepest unconscious desire?

I saw my previous life.

Yes, magic offered a lot... But a wand could turn a human inside out just as easily as it could blow colorful bubbles. Here, breaching the Statute could cost you your memories. And an unfair judge or jury could literally destroy your soul - hello, Dementors.

"How simple," I muttered.

But some desires should remain in the realm of dreams. No point in clinging to them. Living like a muggle here could only lead to dying like a muggle. Therefore, this vision was irrelevant to my plans. And dreams... Some dreams were plain stupid and must be transcended. Let's presume I died there and was reincarnated here. Time to move on with real life.

The tension immediately left me. Now to summon up all my will and proceed to the first occlumency lesson with my tireless partner... Come on, Mirror, this is not what I want. I want to become the puppeteer behind the throne over the entire magical world, happy, wealthy, wise, powerful, immortal... Just like Snape said: clear your mind...


	18. R A B and the Blacks

Two weeks later, I learned the identity of R.A.B. Handwriting comparison charms determined the maximum possible match: Regulus Arcturus Black, son of Walburga and Orion, younger brother of Sirius Black. The next best match was 86% to a wizard who died in 1947.

Regulus, then. I remembered marking him and seeing his admiring, eager thoughts. I only checked his mind once when he was 16, during the initiation. Unlike his brother, Regulus fully absorbed the family ideals of pureblood supremacy, especially that "Black is the most royal bloodline of all." He naturally followed his ancestors' steps into Slytherin. Regulus's parents sang him incessant praises, setting him as an example to his older brother in an attempt to sway Sirius back to "the right path."

Where to search for him now? He was likely long dead if not even the Blacks could find him. Riddle paid most Death Eater deaths no mind. Dark wizards died all the time. Maybe Regulus was killed by Aurors during a raid or by allies in a squabble over trophies. Maybe he had just enough strength to cast Fiendfyre but not enough to control it. Or went overboard with blood magic and drained himself dry.

I was thinking... I borrowed the Blacks' house elf to test the cave defenses against non-humans. Did he take offense at me for killing it? Laughable. House elves were easy to replace. I could only assume that the elf survived and told Regulus something momentous.

What had he seen? A lake full of dead people, and it clashed with his idea of a noble cause? Doubtful. It would scare muggleborns, but Blacks were the darkest family in England. Animating bodies of victims or enemies to guard something was right up their alley. Bellatrix laughed herself silly at James's corpse guarding Sirius Black. And the note contained no mention of my cruelty.

That only left a strange locket I went to great lengths to hide. Did Regulus turn on me because he figured out it was a horcrux? But it must mean the Blacks had books about horcruxes or Regulus heard something from his parents. I had to check with Sirius and Bellatrix. Unlike Riddle, I suspected that tearing your own soul may not be a good idea. Maybe the Blacks knew why.

I had another extensive legilimency session with Bellatrix. She lay unconscious, to keep from remember what I was seeking- anything for the Lord. She had never heard of horcruxes. I checked Sirius's mind, while he was still under the Draught of the Living Death - he did not know, either.

But I did learn something. Sirius steered clear of family books, and Bellatrix read all except for the ones locked in the Family Head's cabinet. When Sirius's behavior made him unworthy of the heir title, the Blacks started to groom Regulus to one day take over the family.

Then, the Blacks had secret books that prompted Regulus to cut ties with the Death Eaters. And I knew for a fact that they kept books with turning the opponent's skin inside out and feeding live humans to maggots in the "general" section. Therefore, it must have been the horcrux that scared him... Scared him so much that he decided to destroy it at the cost of his own life. Idiot. He could have easily put a random wizard under Imperius and send him to the cave with the house elf. Or told Sirius, who would be happy to die for the greater good... And why did he not tell Dumbledore? Afraid to draw attention to his family?

But it did not matter. I was only interested in the past insofar as it could affect the future. Where to search for my horcrux? Logically, in the Black ancestral home. But how could I get in?

Once more, I was flipping through books at the Lestranges' library. This time my secretarial charms floated around the "magical law" section in search of the harshest punishments and most stringent bans. So far, from modernity to 18th century, there was not a single reference to horcruxes. They found several tangentially curious things, like the Ritual of Stolen Faces, where the face was ripped off from a live victim, soaked in potions and worn over your own. Punished by the dementor's kiss. Could it fool Hogwarts wards and make me appear under the face's original name on the Marauder's Map? Could I sacrifice Sirius to gain access to the Black's manor? Unlikely. Of all people, the Blacks knew how to defend their home from Dark magic. And unfortunately, the face acted as strictly magical camouflage: to the naked eye, I would still look like myself wearing piece of skin.

It was time to get to work on modifying my body, as well. The Lestranges finally sorted out the information I gave them and delivered a report on creating a more perfect combat form. No, there were no basilisk eyes, manticore stingers or thestral wings- attempts to attach parts of magical creatures to a human body almost always resulted in painful rejection. Only the most unhinged chimerologists tried that, and never on themselves. My design was a simple humanoid figure. Much faster than a human, modified blood composition, remodeled joints, muscles and so on.

It also came with some negatives. The body was a purely physical change and won't make me any stronger. And it would drain part of magic regeneration just to maintain its form. And it would be disgusting in appearance, impossible to mistake for a human. Remarkably similar to the old reptilian look, actually...

I did not want to spend an eternity in a hideous body and was searching for a way to transform before battle, then back. The only lead was metamorphism. And the only known metamorphmagus in England was Nymphadora Tonks, the eight year old daughter of Andromeda and Ted Tonks. Her parents did not have enough sense between the two of them to hide the girl's talent. With a live metamorphmagus on hand, I should be able to copy something. A large range of changes was unlikely to work, but one extra appearance seemed realistic...

Riddle's memories recommended kidnapping the girl and attempting a sacrificial ritual. It might work. But I hesitated. No, I would sacrifice the kid if necessary. But what if it did not work? Unlike muggles, I only had one metamorphmagus. Find more? Where, abroad? This gift was usually kept under tight wraps- metamorphs were extremely valuable as spies and exotic sex slaves. Money alone couldn't buy one.

Changing appearance without polyjuice was too useful to pass up: hard to identify, not limited to copies of available people, no drinking revolting potion every hour. And in time, I could also gift the ability to my most trusted servants... I needed the girl alive, in case I failed on the first try. Besides, she was young enough to be re-educated by a proper family.

Next question, what to do with her parents? Memories kept insisting the same: kill everyone. Well, maybe not Andromeda... Although, how can I let her live when her husband was dead and daughter used for experiments?

But I was not Riddle. I had a plan. What was the Black family? At the moment, nothing. Narcissa and Bellatrix married off, Andromeda and Sirius disowned. But the masses believed Sirius Black was one of mine. No reason to dispute that. And if they believed Andromeda also supported me, it followed that the entire Black family was mine. A clear proof that all purebloods were on Voldemort's side, however hard they pretended to be "the good guys." It would make for a wonderful propaganda move to drive a wedge between the neutral purebloods and muggleborns. I may get more recruits. And the public could not hate me any more than they did already.

Therefore, the plan came down to putting all three Tonks' under house arrest. We will set up a house-like prison and put them in magic-draining shackles to prevent escapes. If they refused to behave, the artifacts could be implanted into the body.

I held no real hope to sway the parents to my side. This may work work with Lily, but Andromeda was older, a Slytherin, and grew up a Black. She knew all too well that Dark magic was first and foremost torture, murder and sacrifice. Usually of others, but the sickest zealots mutilated themselves. That was probably why she ran away from home in the first place. So, convincing her of my benevolence was a lost cause. Force? She very likely knew how to bypass vows and could eventually throw off the Imperius- going against own family clearly showed strong will...

Her husband. A slightly above average healer at St. Mungo's. No worth bending over backwards when I could get much better healers who would not dare put a wounded Death Eater back together without a spleen. And on his job, he saw the consequences of Death Eaters attacks first hand. Threatening their daughter or demonstrating my healing magic exercises could persuade them to sit tight in prison, but changing sides was a lost cause.

And the most important part: how to acquire them? Their house was surely hidden and protected, and storming it could attract the Order or even Albus. Our agents reported that Ted went to and from work via apparition or portkeys he made himself. An open attack St. Mungo's was not the best idea: he could have the time to escape, and we avoided harming neutral healers. Stun him while he was at work and portkey him here? Not guaranteed to work and would break cover of my people at Mungo's. And even if I had Ted...what to do with him? Imperio with an order to bring me his wife and daughter? His wife was a Black! If their wards did not raise an alarm, she would surely notice the unusual behavior and stun him... Have him write a letter, "come to this address or the Death Eaters will kill me"? Andromeda was no gullible child, she would go straight to the DMLE or Albus.

Then, the father was not the way. With him working, it was reasonable to assume Andromeda looked after their daughter. Finding one will get me both. I recently read a book on cursing someone through a body fragment. The principle behind the magic was not limited to curses. I had no need for blessings, but searching by blood was about to come handy. Hopefully, the Tonks' did not live under the Fidelius.

The simplest solution would be to get a sample from Ted and track him home... But obtaining his blood was almost as difficult as kidnapping him. And all more or less competent wizards regularly drank potions making their body parts unusable for spells or rituals.

Fortunately, the search could also be done with blood of a close relative, at the cost of less precise results. I was going to compensate for quality with quantity.

And so, the Lestranges and I were waking up still restrained Sirius Black. I stopped the opening stream of insults with a preventative Crucio and entered his mind.

"Do you have the ability to let me in the Black ancestral home?" I asked him.

"Go fu..."

He was interrupted by two simultaneous Crucios, mine and Bella's. I suddenly wondered: was double Cruciatus two or four times stronger than normal? Did it work synergetically?

"Bella, stop," I said and focused on Black's mind.

Interesting, Crucios did not stack like stunners. He only felt the stronger one, from Bellatrix. Was I losing my touch or did she get exceptionally angry? Or maybe torture was not my forte. I simply couldn't muster up the required hate. Anyone else attempting the Cruciatus while feeling indifference towards the target would have failed. But Riddle had this spell hardwired to the point of instinct, so mine only weakened. I was just glad the killing curse could not work partially and still downed my targets at once. And the Imperius was, of course, entirely mental and worked as well as before. Life without the Mind Arts would be dreary...

So, what about the Black ancestral home? As always, everything was complicated. Sirius got burned off the tapestry and cut off from the source. Still, the Blacks inherited family titles through the male line, and he was the last living heir. Their house defenses had certain algorithms. Protecting the family took precedence over everything else, and the wards should let the last heir Black through... If he came alone and free of mental influences. Which I will never allow could hide there indefinitely and contact Albus, even if I used Lily as a hostage...

"You will call on your house elf, Kreacher," I ordered Black.

We had set up the interrogation room with one a way ward against house elves, allowing them to apparate in but not leave. And even if five adult wizards somehow proved themselves idiots, no house elf could side-apparate Sirius when he was securely held by chains embedded in a solid rock wall.

At first, Black refused to call the house elf and lost consciousness after another Cruciatus from Bella. Her enthusiasm could easily drive him insane, so I stopped the process. We moved on to torturing muggles in front of him. Thirty minutes and three dementor kisses later, he agreed to call the house elf. But it didn't come! Blasted Kreacher, I'll burn him alive when I find him! Well, after interrogating him, of course. He did not come at Bellatrix's call, either. If the elf was still alive, he must have been ordered not to leave the house... Sirius was not his master, only the last candidate for the title.

Since the easy way failed, the next simplest idea was to kill Sirius. Who will become the Black heir then? Bellatrix? Narcissa? Narcissa's child? I dived back into Sirius's mind.

After his death, the Black fortune and properties would go to Harry Potter! He managed to write a magical will... Awful news... The prophecy words once again thundered in my mind. What if grown up Harry found the Blacks' books on horcruxes?

I drained some of Black's blood into a charmed vial, force-fed him the Draught and sent him back into his cell.

The modified ritual was ready. I held the blood from all the Blacks available: Sirius, Bellatrix and Narcissa (Lucius was strongly against it and had to be ordered). A little sacrifice amplified its power to compensate for inaccuracies caused by using the relatives' blood. We conveniently had three muggles on hand, and in this case lack of souls made no difference.

If Andromeda was not under wards and we used her own blood, the ritual would have pinpointed the exact location. With this, we received a circle around a hundred kilometers in diameter. Still very precise, considering the size of England. Albus must not bother raising top-notch defenses for everyone... We will have to repeat the ritual several times at later dates, in case we caught her outside her home. Then, it was a simple but tedious matter of searching for stationary wards in the indicated area. And I already knew who will do this: house elves. They should comb through the area in a month or two and report all magical anomalies for me to examine. The Lestranges and the Malfoys had plenty of elves to spare.

Just in case, I also talked to Narcissa and carefully searched her mind. She knew nothing of her other sister's whereabouts. I told her that Bellatrix asked me to save Andromeda from the horrors of civil war by putting her under house arrest. Warned about her "initiative" in advance, Bellatrix confirmed: yes, she really wanted to save their dear errant sister. And her husband and daughter? If Andromeda wanted her pets alive, she could have them.

And now I was back to pondering how to gain access to the Blacks' house. Initially, I only wanted to find my stolen horcrux. But now, the promise of their secret books captivated me. I kept poring over Sirius's will in my mind... And finally found a lead.

What could I say, Sirius.. You will have to get married and leave a male heir. And then die. And your widow with the baby will enter the house and adjust the defenses to let me in.

There were two types of marriage. The magical ceremony with connecting to the family source would not work. We had no access to the source, and Sirius was disconnected. But marriage through the Ministry would give the wife control over all Black properties just the same. I will find Ministry officials to conduct the marriage in secret. Black's consent will not be a problem, either: he is going to willingly sign the real document covered with an illusion. I just needed to take care not to torture him into insanity.

What qualities must my pocket Lord Black's mother possess? She must be loyal to me and conform to the Black family creed: pure blood is power, muggles are trash. The last thing I needed was a next generation Sirius... And she should be skilled enough in Dark magic to sort out the house defenses and let me in.

I knew exactly who it was going to be: Alecto Carrow. With their money problems, the Black fortune would be very alluring. Besides, it was one thing to be a Carrow, and a whole another a young rich widow, regent Black. She should be happy, if I framed everything right.

After a short wait, Alecto Carrow walked into my study. She was a short, stocky woman with a husky voice. Quite cruel and smarter than her brother. She should handle this just fine.

"Alecto, as a reward for your faithful service, you will soon become rich and famous. Prepare for a wedding."

However, Alecto reacted very badly... She paled and barely kept herself from falling. What did I say wrong? Arranged marriages were typical for purebloods... After thinking over the situation again, it hit me: my words could be interpreted as marriage to me, and I didn't look too attractive. Standing side by side in battle was a completely different matter than sleeping with me. I'll fix it.

"Sirius Black, my loyal servant, voiced a desire to make you his wife."

She immediately felt better.

"My Lord, I haven't traded two words with him in my entire life. And isn't he dead?"

"Sirius Black brought me information that allowed me to liquidate the Potters. He is a worthy Death Eater, although his deep cover required him not to have a Dark Mark and finish Gryffindor. He caught a deadly curse during his last battle. Not even I can save him. He was unable to express his feelings towards you without risking his cover. He now wants to marry you so that your child may continue his glorious mission of serving me."

"What is his condition?"

"His appearance and mind are undamaged. But he would hardly survive another year. Right now, he is curating a top-secret project for me, so you will not see each other very often. But he has enough strength to continue the Black line."

"Was he not disowned?"

"His role as a spy required him to play a muggle-lover. But his child will be a true Black in blood and magic. Sirius is young, handsome and wealthy. After his death, his child will inherit everything. Or more precisely, his child's mother will. He is not against you remarrying after his death."

"Can I see him?"

Do not fret, I will organize you a couple of dates under Imperius.

"Yes, but not right now. You agree, do you not?"

Of course she would. Marry a pretty boy and get paid for it. Say no and get many Crucios from the Lord.

"Yes."

"Excellent. The ceremony is going to be small, but you may invite your brother. Everything will be conducted here, at the Lestranges'. That is all, you are free to go. And, Alecto: not a word to anyone. Black is officially dead, his unveiling would upset my plans."

I will persuade Black. There was an even simpler route than the Imperius: love potions. The stronger the better. I was no specialist in non-lethal potions, but I'll manage something... "Madness of Lust" and "Birth of an Heir" for Sirius and some fertility potion for Alecto? I better brew everything myself, no need to involve more witnesses than absolutely necessary.

Speaking of potions... The duel with Rosier was coming up. I still needed to brew antidotes for poisons Rosier was planning to use. And potions to combat Veritaserum... Rodolphus found all the artifacts on my list, so I should start preparing...


	19. The Duel with Rosier

I kept ruminating over my plan for the Black family. The easiest course would have been to write to Walburga and ask for assistance. But after the disownment of Sirius and Andromeda, Orion's death and Regulus's disappearance, she locked herself in the manor with the wards set to maximum strength. Most warded homes only allowed owls or Patronuses from authorized senders- otherwise, the Order's headquarters would get regular bulk deliveries of explosives. After the news of Sirius's death, Walburga blocked all contacts with the outside world, even Narcissa's owls. The old matron was probably afraid to hear the news of yet another dead Black. I was beginning to think the Blacks' madness was a part of their family magic...

So, I had to take the long way: if anyone could get through the wards, it would be the only legitimate pureblood male heir. The Lestranges were aware of the plan and added some corrections. Edward offered 19 options for magical marriage with an inaccessible family altar. I was becoming more and more concerned about Tom's ignorance in certain fields of magic. This had to be remedied...

I had big plans for my old horcrux, the Blacks' properties and books. Once Alecto would let me through, it will be the simple matter of spinning a yarn for Walburga. I already had good ideas.

Sirius. There were options. He either served me from the beginning or came to his senses after Hogwarts. He desperately wanted to visit his dear mother but was killed by a vow to "cut all ties with family" Albus forced him to take. Or maybe Albus fed him mind-altering potions ever since Sirius's first day of school, and I saved him?

Regulus. I gave him a very difficult task: dig up secrets of Albus's shady past. It fit seamlessly: he was marked at the early age of 16, while he was still at Hogwarts with access to teachers, rumors, ghosts, Hogsmeade where he could have a beer with Albus's brother... And Regulus found something big. But Albus killed him. Here is what I found in Kendra Dumbledore's grave:

 _"I know I will be dead long before you read this but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match you will be mortal once more._

 _R.A.B."_

All I had to do was cut off the top line addressing the Dark Lord. Or leave it and say the Dark Lord in question was Albus. So many possibilities...

But all that was far from urgent. One or two months to prepare for the wedding, another nine for the baby. Tomorrow I needed to showcase a spectacular battle.

I watched fights involving Rosier in my improvised pensieve until it was time to get up. The day I prepared so much for had finally come.

Memories promised he was no match one-on-one. But I would much rather be a live paranoid prepper than a dead Dark Lord.

Even though Rosier was a highly skilled Dark wizard, I could easily kill him: I had a four-fold advantage in energy and was a master of all types of battle and Dark magic (not backed by diplomas, but killing the masters who taught you made you one automatically). Plus many deadly moves from other fields. Look at transfiguring guts into bugs alone! Or transfiguring half of the body into mud. Or funneled microwave and gamma-radiation. Whatever the field, Riddle excelled beyond all expectations in everything murder-related.

The issue was that I had to avoid using most of the Lord's abilities and could not kill or even main my opponent, whereas Rosier had no limitations and explicitly wanted to kill me.

I will already be full of potions and artifacts decreasing and concealing my power. My newly developed combat household charms were only great for weaker opponents and stealth operations. Healing magic in battle? Still in early stages. Explosive runes? Forbidden by rules, and I would need a sack full for Rosier- the spectators could not miss that. A loophole in the rules allowed me to bring some interesting plant seeds, but they were far from pocket super weapons. We ageeed that Snape will confiscate them during search...

Before leaving, I needed to temporarily hide something. I embedded a small metal safe the Lestranges gifted me into the wall. Now to charm it... One hour and half of my reserve later, I had a safe that could only be opened with my blood and a password of random letters and numbers. It didn't turn out very well - not even an artifact, just a warded object with at most average security, but it should last a couple of years. Since my old horcruxes could not help me be reborn, there was no harm in carrying them on my person. I was not afraid they might get destroyed during the duel, but they would be hard to conceal. My treasures will have to stay home for a day, in a warded safe under Fidelius.

After drinking a cocktail of potions reducing my abilities followed by polyjuice, I went to the Lestranges'. Rodolphus met me at the workshop, where we set up confidentiality charms and began my preparations. First I had my teeth drilled and filled with tiny vials of polyjuice and polyjuice antidote. Then we once again explained the house elf his task. I checked the potions one last time and drank them all: Veritaserum antidote, the Liar's Path...

Next came the time for pain relieving charms as we began the unpleasant process of implanting temporary artifacts into my body. It felt beyond stupid to suppress my magic before battle, but I had no other choice to pass the inspection and produce consistently weak attacks throughout the duel. If I striked like the Lord even once in the heat of the moment, the entire farce would fall apart... Now, sew sacks with Lily's blood into my arms, and more afrtifacts...

Two hours flew by. We walked out of the manor towards the rink. So far, only the Lestranges were present, performing last minute diagnostics. The rink was an empty quidditch-sized field surrounded with rune-covered curbstones. I noticed the runes drawn with blood: the eldest Lestrange heeded my advice.

Only Rodolphus and Severus knew of the fraud. It was amusing to see the Lestranges treat me with carefully guarded neutrality. Bellatrix felt especially odd: instead of the usual elation and boundless adoration, she radiated distinctly negative emotions. I was tempted to check her mind, but the risk of getting busted over nothing was too great.

I waited and watched the audience gather at the stands. Thirty minutes before the start, the entire Inner Circle had arrived.

The seconds exchanged customary remarks and gave us the last opportunity to reconcile peacefully. Rosier and I both said no. They proceeded to recite the rules: no Avadas, no Fiendfyre; the last one left alive or able to fight wins; the duelists may surrender at any point, and the seconds may stop the fight at their discretion; the side that stops the duel loses. These rules were antiquated, dating back before the Ministry's ban of High Dark magic in duels. Traditional duels more often than not ended with one side's death.

I coordinated with Severus and Rodolphus on gestures and spells that will signal them to stop the fight. It was a very convenient option: Snape raises his hand, and Rosier loses. But it went against my agenda. I did not need a conflict between Snape and Rosier, I needed a conflict between the radicals and the Lord's student. The girl must prove herself by winning. Then, even the dumbest servants would not want to plot against the Lord since the next strongest candidate would be much worse. And the Lord will graciously save everyone from petty tyrants -the radicals and the girl provoking them. Hopefully, this would also teach the rest of the Death Eaters the value of cooperation. At least amongst each other.

While the seconds were announcing the methods they will be using to inspect us, I was examining Rosier. He appeared unnaturally calm. I saw nothing under his shields, but using wandless scanning charms could be construed as a premature attack.

The seconds began checking us.

Rosier took off his defenses. He looked squeaky clean: no artifacts, no unusual aura, nothing. He either did not prepare any surprises or hid them very well. And I did not believe the former.

Snape tested him first. A barrage of charms. Revealing, dispelling, visualization of magical potential, magical signature and on and on... Then Rodolphus conducted his own tests with the same results. Next, Rosier took Veritaserum.

"Is your name Sebastian Rosier?" asked Snape.

"Yes."

"Are you the Head of the Rosier family?"

"Yes."

"Did you challenge Elena Ivanova to a duel?"

"Yes."

"Do you currently have artifacts on your person?"

"No."

Snape asked and asked... This kind of security measure was highly unusual, but Rosier insisted, wary of fraud. And I agreed in order to prove there was none.

Next, it was Rodolphus's time to ask questions with Snape standing ready to stop Rosier from answering any unsanctioned ones. Rosier gave a blood oath stating he was in fact Sebastian Rosier. And another regular vow. And cast a spell to reveal his magical signature.

My turn finally came. Rosier was no idiot and suspected fraud. Who knew where the girl came from and how valuable she was to the Lord?

My absolute top priority was to not get busted. If I did, I would have nothing left but run to Albus and apply for a cell in Nurmengard. Or call the real Lily-Elena and quickly kill her in an attempt to convince everyone this was a test of vigilance. And kiss goodbye to a spy at Hogwarts. Even losing the duel would not be as bad as being revealed.

I took down my defenses. All of them, except occlumency. Risky... I could be killed. But this was necessary...

In magical sight, my body lit up with multiple artifacts. Everyone's but Rodolphus's faces went slack with shock: to get caught cheating so easily!

"What is the meaning of this? Artifacts are forbidden by the rules," Snape recited his line.

"The rules only forbid combat artifacts and any devices of attacking, defensive or sustaining types. My artifacts do not fall under those categories, and I will not take them off."

"And what is it that you do not want to part with so badly?"

"Widow's Heart, Dark Fertility and several more. Some are family secrets I am prevented from revealing by vows. None of them can aid me in battle. I will certify under Veritaserum and vows."

Everything was simple. I had loads of artifacts. For example, magical shackles and an empty defective accumulator stone draining my energy. The audience's scanning could detect the artifacts but not their types. Snape checked and found non-existent artifacts instead.

The Death Eaters stared, re-evaluating Elena... Most of the artifacts Snape found were for very narrow purposes of beauty and female reproductive support. Nobody was against it, but killing five muggles for self-maintaining makeup was... wasteful. Same as using Widow's Heart- created with a freshly killed male wizard to guarantee birthing all male children while the artifact was worn. And Dark Fertility used human sacrifice to ensure physical beauty of the future children. Now no none would say Elena loved muggles or cared about their well-being. And no one would demand her to take them off since they had to be worn continuously for full effect.

Next, I painlessly vowed that I had no artifacts banned by the rules. All the antidotes I drank allowed me to slightly misinterpret the quantity and some of the artifact names. Pity the potions only worked on sloppily applied vows...

When Snape checked me for potions, I once again glowed like a Christmas tree. How else was I supposed to reduce my magic reserves and replenishment?

"And I assume all your potions are also non-combat?" Snape asked mockingly.

"Yes. Mostly cosmetic. But I must drink them continuously to get the effects."

"I will be the judge of that. Then you will confirm under Veritaserum and vows."

And I did. Some of my words were true, some "misspoken" with the help of potions and the seconds' aid. Snape confiscated my plant seeds. Rodolphus and I weakly protested.

Next came the hardest part: vowing on blood. I cut my arm straight into a sack of Lily's blood. Vowing with someone else's blood did not work, but Snape diligently pretended the vow took.

Another series of vows. I vowed I was Elena Ivanova. Actually, this one was supposed to kill me if it weren't for potions and Snape's botched work. So I got away with pain I took care not to show. Nothing like the Cruciatus, it would stop in a few minutes. The vow readily accepted that I never attended Hogwarts and didn't know Rosier prior to last month. But at the phrase "I vow I am not Lord Voldemort," I again felt sharp pain that had to be concealed.

For the polyjuice test, I took the antidote while simultaneously applying a quality polymorph charm. The charm needed tremendous concentration to perform without a burst of energy and prevented me from moving- luckily, I had to stand still. With the test done, I got new ampules from the house elf and turned back into Elena.

Finally, I cast spells releasing Elena's signature using her wand and her blood. I didn't implant it into my body for nothing. Casting with someone else's blood felt absolutely awful...

That was it, the narrowest moment was over. I began reapplying my defenses very slowly, waiting for the pain to go away. In 30 minutes, I was surrounded by a weaker copy of the Lord's shields. The time was up.

The way Rosier acted set me on edge. He either managed to plant something on me or sneak in something highly lethal. I cast a wandless diagnostics on myself. Nothing.

"Lord Lestrange, I do not doubt your qualifications, but I must request you to strengthen the ward. I think several wizards in runic circles will suffice."

"The ward was raised on blood runes. No one but me can interact, fuel or lower it. The time for preparations is over, please take your position in the rink."

Well then, stalling for self-diagnostics did not work.

We walked into the rink and stood about a hundred yards apart, both under acceleration charms and multitudes of shields. A transparent wall separated us during the countdown from ten. What should I expect from him? A lot of Crucios, Dark and blood magic, Antipatronus, and more than a couple underhanded stunts: Snape already "planted" potion fumes on me during the inspection.

What did he expect from me? Blood and Dark magic. One or more supercharged hits. If he was waiting on it, then he must not get it.

The most logical tactic was to simply cruciate him: the curse would ignore all shields, and Snape will stop the duel. Getting hit with a Crucio in one-on-one fight guaranteed defeat: not many could remain conscious, and no one could continue fighting under its effects.

But in my case, it was not advisable. Since I had no idea what Elena would need to show at future clashes, it would be best to stick to simpler and weaker spells. Hopefully, I could wear Rosier down. Otherwise, the plan was to display increasingly advanced blood magic, up to mastery. The girl could not be a master in more than one field, so if blood proved insufficient, I should actively use runes. Aside from defenses, rituals and artifacts, runes could also be used in battle, though very few studied them to that level. It required preternatural willpower and knowledge of interplanar geomertry to visualize a spell in runes and feed them energy in precise combinations...

I had no more time to think as the countdown reached zero, and the divider between us disappeared.

I opened the fight with a Crucio accompanied by wandless area fire and fish gutting charms, then immediately flew up in a jet of smoke.

Rosier also began with the Cruciatus, followed with a wandless Ray of Dust and took off after me.

I conjured little metal balls and, accelerating them to the speed of sound, sent them at him from all sides. His shields held them off.

I dodged another Cruciatus and a flesh Abruptio, replying with two fireballs and a wandless meat mincing charm. He partially shielded, partially dodged.

In response, I faced a rather powerful Night's Shadow, which I blocked with Carpus Bonum all the while examining my opponent in magical sight. But the haze around him blurred all his shields into one, making them unidentifiable.

I cast a chain of revealing and dispelling charms at him. He blocked them all and sent a shield penetrator into my Carpus Bonum, followed by some self-guiding black sphere.

I dodged the Crucios, deflected the sphere, and threw a spear of fire back at him, adding a steam-cooking charm. Everything got neutralized by his shields. If only I didn't have to hold back and conform to Elena's image... But masquerade was everything.

Next to me appeared a black amoeba the size of a truck; it tried to swallow me and slow me down. Only one spell, and the Black Blot fell to the ground and melted like a slab of inky ice.

I alternated between spears of fire and ice, then topped them off with a tornado of blades. He parried most and took the rest onto the shields.

I suddenly found myself in a Kissel: a space filled with viscous matter hindering movement of everyone but the caster. Dispelling it wandlessly would reveal too much power, and my wand was busy deflecting assorted pain curses. So I was temporarily done flying. I landed with Arresto Momentum and continued the fight on the ground.

Rosier inmediaty tried to pierce me with transfigured spears rising from the ground, but my shields easily held them off. A rational move: many novices forgot to shield on the side of solid surfaces.

I conjured Firebirds, which essentially worked like self-guiding missiles. Rosier met them with a specialized fire shield and used something I did not know to neutralize the blast wave.

Not to be outdone, he tried to drown me by turning the ground under me into a bog. I could not fly, but basic self-levitation allowed me to simply walk over the viscid surface. While I was busy canceling his Kissel in the air, my opponent hit me with a sharp stalagmite raised from the ground. My shields held, but the laws of physics still applied - I flew up like a kicked ball and turned into smoke.

Our quidditch match from hell continued in the same vein for almost ten minutes. Even though I played Elena and avoided displaying too much experience, I defended better than Rosier. I did not hit too strong and carefully my chose Dark magic attacks, so he held the offensive advantage.

I tried to bypass his occlumency and outside mental shields, but it was futile during battle. Misleading him with conjured illusions did not work either, as if he could smell them.

For the spectators, this looked like his superior attacks were nullified by my strong defenses, and my weaker hits could not reach him. Why was Elena not attacking and defending with Dark magic at the same time? Lack of experience, of course!

Paradoxically, this situation satisfied both sides. I was counting on Rosier to run out of juice before me. Rosier thought that the inexperienced girl will sooner or later make a fatal mistake. And he must have been also counting on Snape's potions.

Snape planted three on me. The first had to sabotage a couple of my spells at the beginning of the duel. The second should have given me a heart attack several minutes into intense spell casting. The third was meant to boil my blood after approximately ten minutes of increased heart rate: the girl tried to fuel a spell with her blood before letting it out of the body, so much for claiming to be a blood specialist.

Of course, none of them worked.

What really concerned me was Rosier's spell power increasing by the minute. Every wizard had an optimal balance of magical cost-output they usually followed. He was not an imbecile to think he could defeat me just by squeezing out a bit more power... I also did not understand why he was so stubbornly intent on knocking me down to the ground.

I threw blades transfigured from air at him. He stopped them with a universal shield and sent back a powerful rotting curse. I had to play along and allow it to eat through some of my shields and destroy the wings of darkness. I landed, and immediately regretted it.

I recognized Graves's Cursed Earth. A slow to apply but very deadly and difficult to notice curse. Rosier must have been stalling to curse the entire arena while I was dashing above the surface. He rightfully expected me to die the instant I touched the ground. The beauty of this curse lied in its ability to effortlessly go through most defenses, even most Dark shields.

To hold off this curse, the Mana Shield would drain magic at a truly enormous rate. With the defenses Lily demonstrated during the meeting, she would have quickly run out of energy and became completely exposed to the curse. But this was no Avada. The Cursed Earth had two specialized defenses, and I could walk on the ground as long as I wanted.

The problem lied in the fact that if Elena knew these charms, her experience could only allow for the simplified versions that constantly drained her magic to maintain themselves. So, she would not last long on the ground. Break the curse? It would mean admitting I was a curse master. Fly up again? Rosier was holding me down with pressurized air. It looked like he was trying to crush me, but all he really needed was to hold me on the ground. Break through? Again, too much power, and it would do nothing to address the actual problem.

I cast an additional charm against pressure, then jabbed my wand at the sky and poured the reserve of an average wizard into blocking all levitation. Rosier looked like he entered an air pocket and tried to straighten himself. When it did not work, he was forced to land. To break my anti-levitation charm, he had to either waste an inane amount of energy (which he won't do because a fight to exhaustion did not serve his interests) or do a lot of wand-waving (which I won't let him).

I attacked him with a quick chain of blasting curses followed by a charm that should break his defenses against the Cursed Earth. He blocked the explosions, and the Graves's curse immediately disappeared. He must have lost the specialized defenses and lifted it himself. Undeterred, he cast another Crucio and continued his relentless attack.

I really doubted he cursed the ground all by himself. Smuggled a single-use artifact? I wonder how?

Our battle continued on the ground. Now Rosier put all bets on speed. He became fast, incredibly fast. I remembered the Inshal potion Snape warned me about: dormant and almost unrecognizable until the flow of magic through the body during casting activated the potion already in the bloodstream.

While some potions produced effects with the magic of their ingredients, other mobilized the body's natural reserves. A specialist of Snape's level could brew doping to temporarily boost power through the roof. The drinker would end up paying for every drop with long bed rest, if he survived at all... But what came later was not important, right?

And so, Rosier was breaking his personal speed records. To keep up with him, I cast an additional acceleration charm on myself, increased my heart rate and strengthened blood vessels with blood magic, then adjusted my defenses to receive more oxygen through the air filtration charms.

We both were going all out with wandless magic and did not eschew High Dark spells except for the truly powerful ones- that is, powerful by the standards of psychopathic Dark wizards.

We continued to bounce around the rink, exchange batteries of colorful rays, maneuver, dodge attacks with jumps and rolls...

One time we clashed head-on. The wands blurred with mad movement speed: at the closest distances, everything was decided by speed, not power. For about 20 seconds we stood face to face attacking and parrying, then split up having to dodge mutual Crucios... Attacks from different angles, every possible trickery- too much to describe.

Eventually, I made a "mistake." While deflecting a chain of curses, I took the last one, Dealos Malis, on a shield that was not fully adapted to it. The shield reverberated under the strain, and I got thrown to the side.

In an attempt to build on his momentary advantage, Rosier performed additional attacks that left him a little open. Instead of attacking him directly, I transfigured muggle explosives under his feet and immediately detonated them. His shields protected him, but a couple of my penetrators successfully cleared the way for a modified stunning charm.

I fully expected the fight to end here. That stunner could have knocked out a hippogriff. But Rosier reacted like someone merely slapped him with an open palm. Only his body got momentarily covered with black smoke...

Continuing the fight, I was trying to work out what he had done to himself. A ritual? I knew several exceedingly wasteful and bloody rituals that granted an hour or two of magic resistance. Not to the level of a troll, but weaker spells would simply bounce off. If only it was possible to always walk around under these rituals... But they demanded too many sacrifices and caused cumulative health damage for few meager hours of results...

How did no one notice it while he was standing without shields? Probably another sacrificial ritual, this time for camouflage... This was exactly why no one liked Dark wizards: huge waste of material for temporary improvements. If during the Middle Ages acquiring material was easy, these days it threatened the Statute. And many modem wizards mellowed out, embracing humanitarian philosophies...

I attacked Rosier with a series of nonverbal bone-breakers. He coldly and efficiently deflected everything and replied with the same, only padding the middle with a modified withering curse that required a specialized shield. Knowing these tricks all too well, I took all the regular curses on a universal shield, then slashed my wand upwards to put up Brock's Mirror. The little nasty thing flew back to its master, followed by my volley of various nonverbal curses at different angles. Rosier deflected everything and several times even guessed the angle of the shield to reflect a curse back at me.

So far, we both did our best to use nonverbal spells, and only rays of light and jerky hand movements told the spectators what was happening.

Rosier's attack style changed again. After failing to defeat me with his casting speed, he decided to use a rather clever tactic. Most spells allowed leeway or had several options of wand movements. And now Rosier was demonstrating an astounding sleight of hand and showmanship. "Unnecessary" gestures of his each spell left magical traces. When these traces accumulated, their pattern lit up in magical sight, forming a flesh dissolving curse that flew right at me. Meanwhile, Rosier never paused his standards attacks.

This combination of spells had been developed by Dolohov. Very effective, despite being slow. Since most of the spells it included were illegal, only "our people" used this trick. The girl never studied under Dolohov, so she should not know the attack or its specialized counter. And any other defense could fail. It was only logical.

The ground around me flared with a runic pattern: neutralization, reflection of magic and others. Rosier's curse got dispersed, though not the way anyone expected.

My opponent glared at me with undiluted hatred. He was beginning to wear out- a natural result of prolonged battle. I had to brace for one extreme final onslaught.

Rosier placed the middle of his wand between three fingers and started to spin it. Although I kept barraging him with spells and trying to set him on fire, I was a bit taken aback. Wands were simply never used this way! And Rosier must know it.

He then clasped his wand properly and conjured an Antipatronus. The black manticore launched at me the moment it formed. It was much larger than in Riddle's memories...

More curses flew at me. Every single spell Rosier cast with his wand came out much stronger than at the beginning of the duel. Very strange, considering that his wandless spells stayed consistent throughout the fight.

I conjured my own Antipatronus. My thestral attacked Rosier's manticore, and I would have bet everything on the manticore. But no matter, slowing it down was good enough for my purposes. I needed to show off my thestral Antipatronus as a reliable identification.

I blocked and parried all of Rosier's attacks. His manticore finished off my thestral and rushed at me. Time for another mistake... I conjured a normal Patronus, slightly weakening my shields. Rosier's wandless air blade was slowed down by my defenses but left a wide, shallow cut on my left arm.

My Patronus (which as I found out was a variety of magical sea serpents) engaged the manticore. I continued blocking Rosier's exponentially increasing in strength curses. He probably used the wand burnout ritual, where every spell took a part of the wand's life with it. How much stronger it made his spells and how much it harmed the wand depended on the ritual specifics. It appeared Rosier went with the maximum setting.

Not stopping to deflect the curses and only dodging Crucios, I began putting up additional shields using my blood and runes. The annoying smirk Rosier sported ever since his Antipatronus defeated mine was rapidly fading.

But his next move caught me off-guard. Rosier's entire left arm below the elbow turned into ash. His wand shot out a wave of raw magic, connecting to my shields with a black stream. From the outside it looked like he sacrificed his arm to fuel a spell.

The problem was its power. This was a Voldemort-level attack: it collapsed most of my shields and launched me ten meters up into the air. I quickly ran through the possibilities of how he could have managed this and saw only one answer: he must have cut off his arm in advance and replaced it with an artificial prosthesis made from treated bones of fresh wizards. And convinced the vows his own arm did not count as an artifact... I wonder, how long will he have to walk around with one arm before growing a new one? Will his phantom pains go away by then?

All that went through my mind while I was flying backwards and restoring my shields. Rosier traced my trajectory and tried to catch me with a Crucio at the bottom of my fall. But this did not agree with my plans.

I wandlessly transfigured a large rock and crashed into it, causing my shields to bounce me to the side. I could have transfigured a solid shield before the Cruciatus, but I suspected he sent a cancellation of transfiguration ahead of it.

Rosier looked haggard. He already used up a fair amount of his blood in place of magical energy. His shields still held, but without magic to fuel them, they would soon begin collapsing under my hits.

He waved his wand to conjure a powerful blood shield. As soon as it was done, his wand burned up in a dark flame, scorching his right arm. Rosier dropped to one knee. The remains of his wand released a cloud of grey smoke that condensed into the shape of a human skull. It floated towards me, luckily not too fast.

I wanted to cuss but had no time. Summoning a couple dozen cubic meters of dirt, I covered myself with a dirt dome and hurriedly drew runes on its inner surface: with my wand, will and blood all at once. Hiding from the audience under magic-concealment charms, I used several Dark magic spells Riddle's memories helpfully provided.

What scared me so much? Rosier released a Spectral Flesh Eater, a curse famous for both power and incredible ability to go through most barriers, magical and physical. But it was in no way a battle curse- it took half a day to apply and required a sacrifice. And Rosier did not have enough energy for it. He somehow managed to stuff it into his wand, which acted as an artifact. The curse was as straight-forward as the name suggested: it moved towards the nearest living being and devoured all the flesh. I didn't really understand why it did not attack Rosier...

Because of its etherealness, this smoky skull could seep through the ground. I could have tried running or burying myself deeper... But this was no Hogwarts: the wards only extended two meters underground, where they hit a monolithic slab of concrete covered in runes. Nowhere to hide and nowhere to run. I couldn't stop the fight. Where was the proof Rosier did not create the curse himself? What if he researched an obscure method to reduce the energy cost? And where was the proof his arm was artificial when everything burned down?

The Flesh Eater went through the charmed dirt and slowed down significantly. Then, it met several blood-based banishment charms and got hit with a Pseudocorpus Fissure and Astral Staff. The skull looked like it got doused in acid and pounded with a hammer but still continued creeping towards me. I hit it with one more Astral Staff and a poltergeist vanquishing charm. Slowly, almost regretfully, the skull began to dissolve into air.

It was well past time to finish this. I conjured a blood ribbon and aimed at the ground. It had many advantages: a self-guiding string of blood that cut up enemies close to the caster and only used the energy contained in the blood string itself. I made the ribbon extremely thin- not a single cell but definitely no more than tenth of a millimeter.

The ribbon striked underground and quickly made its way to Rosier, wrapping around his shields like a crazed bundle of wire trying to overload and crush them. A trick like this would obviously not work at the beginning of the battle, but right now Rosier was hanging on by pure pride.

I demolished the dirt dome that was covering me and cast a Crucio at Rosier. He tried to jump to the side, but his shields were held firmly in place by the blood thread wrapped around them. Taking down shields would only lead to him being minced to pieces. He chose the lesser evil and got hit with the Cruciatus.

I added another acceleration charm to myself and approached my opponent. My plan was simple: hold Rosier under Cruciatus to prevent him from casting while the blood ribbon breaks his shields, which were on their last breath. Ten second later, Rosier was completely unprotected. I almost accidentally cut him up...

I canceled the ribbon and repurposed the leftover blood into an additional blood shield. Still holding him under the Cruciatus, I cast a wandless Stupefy. The spell bounced off his body. Interesting... How could I stun him without accidentally killing him? And why had the seconds not stopped the fight?

One glance around the battlefield answered one of them: my Patronus was still fighting Rosier's manticore, and so far it was a tie. The fight was not stopped because the Antipatronus could still win and kill me. I had no good options of fighting it. Fiendfyre was against the rules. High Dark magic after an exhausting battle would let everyone know I was Voldemort. And I was not skilled in High Light magic... Runes and banishment charms could harm it but were far from an optimal weapon...

A wave of my hand pierced Rosier's palms and feet with transfigured spikes. Another made a shallow cut on my arm and sent my blood into his veins. Rosier tried to struggle even under the Cruciatus but received another burst of pain on top. He was done with magic for today, not even his blood could serve him.

I removed the Cruciatus.

"Call back your Antipatronus," I told him.

"No," he snarled.

"Crucio! Call back the Antipatronus."

"Die, bitch!"

I tried to put him under Imperius- only Mulciber could match mine. But Rosier showed abnormally strong will and did not succumb!

What to do now? Torture could break anyone. But I needed Rosier alive and more or less sane: he oversaw the entire system of processing prisoners and producing undead. All other candidates were much less qualified. And his friends might try to avenge his death.

As a precaution, I threw another Crucio at prostrate Rosier, then shifted my attention to the Antipatronus and set runic traps. The manticore slowed down. I pelted it with a lot of garden-variety banishment charms. Most of them hit the target, covering the manticore's body in welts like it got scalded with boiling water. I attacked it with more banishment charms, this time blood-based. The shadowy creature got even more burns, and its front leg dissolved into nothing. I repeated the previous attack, this time dissolving it all. Not seeing any more opponents, my Patronus vanished into the air.

"I demand to be declared the victor!" I addressed the eldest Lestrange.

"I am ready to continue the fight and forbid my second from declaring my surrender," - said Rosier.

Now, this was very strange. He lost. He had no magical energy. I was preventing him from using blood. One of his arms was missing, the other badly scorched with a strange flame. To top it all, he was crucified on the ground and restrained. What was he counting on?

I was really tempted to use full-strength legilimency. But I'd be found out. Stun him? Normal charms did nothing, and overpowered ones could stop his heart.

"Crucio!" I tried again. "Surrender, Rosier."

"No!"

He was not a masochist. He must endure pain for a reason... If he was not surrendering, then he still thought he could win. How?

"Crucio! You lost. What are you counting on?"

"Then don't be afraid! Why are you hiding from poor defenseless me under all those shields?" he taunted.

A lackluster attempt, but it could have worked with someone stupid and cocky. And considering Rosier's condition, it was the height of logic and reason. But I was not going to lower my guard.

"Crucio! How do you plan to kill me? You can't use magic. Poison fumes? Hidden blades? Muggle explosives in your stomach? It is all futile. I only take off my defenses for bathing and sex. I don't see a bath here, and you are not my type! Crucio!"

I should probably lay off the Crucios or he would lose his mind... I might have overindulged a little.

I had no clue what Rosier used to make himself impervious to stunning charms. The only solution I saw was using a spell where unconsciousness was a side effect rather than the direct goal. And not Dark, so he could recover from it...

The Cruciatus was one of many spells that caused pain without damaging the body. But there were even more ways to cause both damage and pain. I canceled the Crucio and switched to the air press charm. Used normally, it would crush the target into a pancake. But fine-tuned control let concentrate on a small area and, for example, crush his knees one after the other...

Rosier howled and fell unconscious.

Somehow, it triggered an explosion. A very powerful one. A third of my shields shattered immediately. I got picked up like a leaf and slammed into the top of the ward dome over the rink. Now my shield was actively draining my blood. The ward opalesced with multiple colors but survived. I gracefully landed with Arresto Momentum.

"Elena Ivanova wins!" Edward announced with the sound-amplifying charm.

I wished Rosier could be disqualified, but where was the proof he brought in an artifact?

To my astonishment, Rosier survived and lay in the middle of the blast crater, unconscious and completely skinless. He used mass sacrifice to create an explosive artifact. But since smuggling an artifact was problematic, he turned his own skin into one. The explosion happened at some distance outside the body and was directed outward. He should have still died from the blast wave, but the rink ward swallowed everything.

Rosier must have planned this suicide bomb as a final argument. Dark magic, sacrificed his own skin. A family secret. Not an artifact, a spell. His magic was blocked? Well, the idiot girl did not block it well enough. Or it was an effect of a special ritual. And anyway, the victors were always right, and the losers forgotten. And the Lord himself said that if his student lost, he did not want her.

All and all, everything went well. I underestimated Rosier but still successfully proved that it was not the Lord who fought him. Vows, Veritaserum, different Patronus, completely different and weak Antipatronus. At the same time, I showed battle skills close to Dolohov's, paranoia close to Moody's, and sadism close to Bellatrix's. I managed not to demonstrate any powerful Dark curses while showing off what I needed: blood magic and runes. Now I could tell everyone Elena spent all of her time performing experiments, creating new spells and studying day and night. I will have to take a stroll or two under polyjuice, else they might start wondering about the lack of her victims...

Snape cast some healing charms on Rosier's unconscious form, fed him potions, put him on a conjured stretcher and began preparing him for transport home. Mulciber came up to assist him. Everyone else started to leave.

Rosier will be out of commission for at least a month. Turning a part of live body into an artifact was not the brightest idea. He must have prepared to replace his skin and arm and will spend a long time in bed, in extreme pain... Who could I use to replace him while he was getting better?

"Rodolphus, no need to accompany me," I said and walked to the apparition platform, reapplying my shields on the go. I used up a decent amount of blood and was feeling a little peaky. After checking myself for tracking charms and creating magic interferences, I apparated home.

I spent the next hour removing the implanted artifacts. It was especially pleasant to remove "magic shackles" and the defective accumulator. I took a moment to relish in the feeling of magic flowing through me, then returned all ex-horcruxes in isolating containers back into my pockets.

I really wanted to drink a blood-replenishing potion but instead began self-diagnostics. Rosier could not have placed all his bets on an explosion, no matter how powerful. My thoughts whirled around potions... It was logical to leave me a last goodbye. But how? He thought he would be fighting a blood specialist who will use up her blood during battle and drink a blood replenishing potion after. It would be great if the opponent died from it. How to explain it? Stupid girl missed a slow-acting curse.

I hesitated to use potions to check myself. Spells showed everything was clear. Cursing, I drained some blood into a vial. Adding the replenishing potion produced an unusual reaction...

When the three potions Rosier used to poison me interacted with their respective antidotes, they produced harmless substances. But something turning these leftovers into an ingredient for another poison. The other ingredient was the blood replenishing potion and something else... I immediately suspected Snape's betrayal: this smelled of a potions master. But he was unlikely to jeopardize Lily... And Rosier brewed the ones planted on me himself. But I should still check Snape.

How did Rosier pull it off? He must have brewed or bought some potion that was odorless, magically undetectable and easy to evaporate like perfume. I assumed I got the first dose standing without shields during the inspection. Although I stood inside an air filtration bubble, some particles must have found a way in when the second crossed its barrier. The "perfume" must have been slow-acting and awaited the addition of either the blood-replenishing potion or some other substance Rosier had on him. I had no doubt I would have died if I removed my air filter when torturing him.

Now I would definitely never walk around without defenses. To hell with duels like that! I needed to learn more about my servants.

The effects were probably temporary, but I decided to err on the side of caution and brew an antidote. The house elf brought the ingredients, and six hours later I had an improvised potion containing my blood and 56 other things. It tasted more disgusting than it looked... Time to sleep and rewatch the fight in my memories.

The next day, Rosier's manor got a visit from the Dark Lord himself.

Rosier looked pathetic lying in a bathtub full of healing concoctions. Healing with Dark Magic was not always feasible, especially not when most of his injuries directly resulted from sacrificing his own body parts. He was surrounded by various equipment, some of it pumping fluids into his blood. There were no active defenses around him... In fact, no magic at all... I was no healer, but besides clear signs of magical exhaustion, potions overdose, missing left arm, odd but obviously Dark magic damage to his right hand, phantom pains and tremors from multiple Crucios, trauma of the energy field from my blood blocking his magic, punctured hands and feet, and shattered leg bones, he had something else very wrong with him. Probably ritual side effects. He was conscious, in immense pain even under anesthesia.

I really wanted torture him to death... Slowly burn him alive or freeze him into a statue. He came close to killing me with poison! But formally, I had no reason, and his death would anger many people. And I needed him. I didn't share his ambitions of turning the Earth into a concentration camp, but he was very useful as long as I controlled him.

"My Lord..." he tried, but another painful convulsion shook his entire body.

"I am pleased with you. You put up a good fight. It is not your fault that it wasn't enough."

"My Lord, why doesn't she participate in raids?"

"She works on special assignments. Performs blood experiments on prisoners. Develops new spells. But she will soon reveal herself. Rosier, I understand you two have a feud. She survived your surprise poison that reacts with the blood replenishing potion. I ask you to refrain from antagonizing her for the time being and not incite anyone else to do so on your behalf."

He was very weak and would miss months of meetings... had "holes" in occlumency and no other defenses. I carefully slithered through his mind. Some of it was defended, but I might find something good. I could use strong doping for my next meeting with Dumbledore. Make Snape experiment with it, test on regular soldiers...

"My Lord, why should I not try killing her after this?"

Hm, I was expecting something less direct. But taking into account his condition... How was he even conscious?

"On top of the current orders, I will soon give her a special assignment," I said.

I was thinking... Both Lily and Rosier must consider me on their side... Rosier had another son, Evan. Very gifted in the Dark Arts. So gifted that at 20 years of age he managed hold his own against Moody for a good while, cutting off a piece of the famous Auror's face before dying... Moody, the legendary Dark wizard hunter personally responsible for filling a fourth of Azkaban cells. Equal to Dolohov in power, highly skilled in nonverbal magic. Paranoid bastard with an artificial eye... Riddle could have defeated him one-on-one. And I would handle him after some practice on Aurors in real fights. But to fuel propaganda and inspire recruits, this must not be done by the Lord.

"I want to give her a special assignment. Elena Ivanova must kill Alastor Moody."

Rosier's tormented face twitched with a hint of smile. Either the girl who humiliated him will die or his son's killer will. And then Rosier will finish off the victor.


	20. The Birth of a New Legend

My non-core skills had to be tested in a real fight. Healing and household magic successes on prisoners did not mean much. I was a fighter, not an executioner. But demonstrating a new style would go against my image: shortage of Dark magic, different Antipatronus, a much slower body, no plans to kill muggles and mudbloods left and right. And most importantly, I would not shy away from the main tactic of "Battle Magic 101": running away.

Lord Voldemort did not run from anyone (except, possibly, Albus). It would cause irreparable damage to my authority. But whereas running from Moody or a squad of hitwizards debased the Lord, a lone Death Eater escaping under the same circumstances would be an awe-inspiring victory. And I will arrange many such victories...

I went to Lily. She was in the living room, reading a book on dueling. Not the best way to learn, but better than nothing. Now to establish a mental link...

"Elena, you aura seems to have changed. I think it is the consequence of your Crucios on Snape. Is there anything you wish to tell me?"

"My wand stopped obeying me, my Lord."

Of course it did. Unicorn hair leaned towards Light magic, while her blood worked exclusively with Dark. How could she even cast anything with two cores?

"Deep inside, you realize you have changed," -I said and felt her stubborn distrust. No matter, she was already starting to see a preponderance of proof. - "While you were training at the Lestranges', I copied an imprint of your magic. A loyal to me wand master crafted you a new wand. Try to use it as much as possible. Do not break or lose it. Take good care of it. This is an order. The wand contains no illegal ingredients, but it will take a long time to get used to you - until you stop lying to yourself. For his payment, the wand master wants money and your werewolf core wand for research. Give it to me now."

Oh, how I loved talking to muggleborns! Reading auras. Master wandmakers bartering. Copying magic imprints. She won't even recognize Ollivander's style. And the best part of all, she had no way to call my bluff.

I wanted to test one interesting hypothesis. What if Ollivander was right and wizards did learn from their wands? This wand will not teach her anything good, she might as well take it and apparate straight to Azkaban.

Black walnut and dried mandrake root, made over two centuries ago by Ollivander's ancestor. In addition to high attraction to the Dark Arts, the wood had a useful quirk. According to Ollivander, it was abnormally attuned to inner conflict and would lose power dramatically if its possessor practiced any form of self-deception.* Thus, Lily's reluctance to follow my orders or making excuses (I was forced, not my fault...) would directly impair her magic. But if she got a taste for it and thought she fought for a just cause, the wand would make her feel strong.

And mandrake root core reportedly augmented the power of Dark-leaning owner. The wand master said these wands usually chose vocal and impulsive people who do not hesitate to bend the world to their will but often ignore the long-term consequences of their actions. A perfect match for Lily. She interrupted and criticized the Dark Lord! If I were Tom, she would be constantly writhing under Crucios. Overbearing and demanding, told Snape how to live his life back at Hogwarts, tried to separate him from his Slytherin friends... She already had a large magic reserve, and Dark affinity will come... if wands truly did influence us... And if the experiment failed, so be it.

I was pleased with Ollivander in so many ways. He already prepared a list of people with wands suited for the Dark Arts. Potential did not necessarily translate to reality, but it was better than shooting in the dark.

Moreover, I got a brand new wand: cherry and magical snake scale. It felt absolutely perfect, like the yew one did for Tom. Initially, Ollivander offered several types of magical snakes, but I brought him Nagini's scale. A glance into his mind showed it was even better.

What did Ollivander's notes say, again? Snake scale wands were drawn to wisdom and thirst for knowledge. Their owners often had contradictory natures with light and dark fighting within them. Struggled to restrain their baser instincts but very adept at defending themselves from outside threats.

So I had a Light side? Could it attack alongside the Dark? Heal me after battle?

The only thing I did not understand was why my wand must be so conspicuously wavy and shaped like a coiled snake at the handle? I had to find a custom-made dragonskin holster to fit it. And Frank's wand now served as backup.

"What is it made of, my Lord?"

"I am no specialist. Black walnut and some plant studied during the second year of Hogwarts. The master warned it will not work well if you lie to yourself."

We continued the game of question-answer, and I skimmed through her memories of lessons with Snape. Nothing worth attention.

"Elena, you ought to learn occlumency. Since you are under a secrecy vow, only I can teach you."

"Can I study alone?"

"No. Alone, it would take you a decade."

Why was she afraid? I searched through her mind every time I saw her. Did she not know? Thought if I did not scream "legilimens!" there was no legilimency?

"I brought you books. Once you finish all of them, we will practice," I told her.

Books with average, obvious defenses like "ocean," "brick wall," "forest," and burning sensation illusions for intruders. But they were fast and easy to learn. She did not need to become a master spy, only keep someone out long enough to call me.

"Is there a point, my Lord?"

"There is. Here, pet the cat."

And Lily petted a cat. A white and red tabby.

"Elena, where did this cat come from?"

It did not take legilimency to see the cogs turning.

"I influenced your mind and all your senses. It even smells like a cat. You need occlumency not to fall for such tricks. Never take off you mind-protecting amulets, not even at home. I am busy, so you must recharge them yourself. They will last approximately one more week."

"I don't know how."

"Ask Snape to teach you."

I wonder, what will Snape's expression be when she asks him to teach her blood runes?

"And now, bring me the pensieve," I told her. "I will leave you the memories of "your" fight with Rosier. Memorize the names of all the spells I used, so you can give a proper answer if at the meeting someone asks you what you hit him with during the fifth minute."

I left Lily and disapparated. It was time for my student to reveal herself to the world.

The plan was simple: put on a Death Eater uniform with Elena's mask, drink polyjuice, take Lily's werewolf heart wand, apply plenty of anti-scanning charms, and go play. Wearing a body of a short frail woman won't be pleasant, but potions and charms will somewhat compensate for it.

Someone else in my place would have probably gone to attack the Auror academy alone. Or caused a bloodbath at a muggle school. But aside from it being pointless, I was uncertain I could take out the droves of enemies responding to such an obvious attack... Go with a squad of Death Eaters? And deal with incessant comments from low-life marked questioning my authority? Calming everyone down with the Cruciatus could earn me hits in the back with something distracting during battle. We were not military with iron discipline. To command someone, I had to first earn their respect... Go with someone loyal like Crouch or Rodolphus? They would steal Elena's limelight.

I decided to work alone for a bit, then continue as a regular soldier under Dolohov. And once the Death Eaters see Elena in action and come to respect her, she could take command.

Where to channel my aggression? Ideally, I should only kill whoever gets in the way and convert the rest. Chimaera at the Ministry was an act of terror with two clear messages: "nowhere is safe" and "allow Dark magic for self-defense against animals!" Once the masses got used to Dark magic as a problem-solving tool, we would gradually remove "against animals" and "self-defense."

I already had a list of targets. Criminals who did not want to share their loot, brew us simple potions or gather material. Journalists who were refusing to write articles about the purebloods' greatness and the dangers of muggle ideas destroying our culture. Aurors who did not have enough brains to accept bribes and keep their noses out of our business. Civilians who openly said the Dark Lord's name or declared that they opposed us.

With the exception of the DMLE members, very few had to be killed. My main weapons were kind words and the Cruciatus. Excuse me, sir, do you have a moment to talk about the Dark Lord? Crucio! Either help us or stay quiet and out of the way.

* * *

Weeks later, I was walking down Knockturn under the guise of Elena. Two Chinese nationals were selling imported dragon bones and offering magical tattoos in a dingy shop ahead. Far from the Dark Mark, of course, just a simple artifact that forever stayed within reach.

I strolled inside and told them in no uncertain terms that they must share with the Death Eaters. In response, all I heard was "beat it or we call the Aurors!" in broken English.

Yes, this was banal racketeering. But I already put up anti-apparition and anti-communication charms. Under the acceleration charm and potion, I was very fast. They had no chance to react and got hit with Crucios. I showed them the Mark and patiently explained again. But when I turned around to leave, they tried to hit me with verbal Expelliarmus and Stupefy! That was foreigners for you. Most locals stopped resisting after a Crucio and seeing the Mark.

Before they could finish pronouncing the spells, both received a second round of Crucios and wandless penetrators. I broke their wands and tortured them a little longer. Two shopkeepers against the Dark Lord was not even funny. In conclusion, I added escalating pain curses and six months of impotence for each. They will spend several days at St. Mungo's with unforgettable sensations. And the impotence curse had no permanent effects and could even be cured before running its course. I said that if they refused to understand the easy way, next time will be worse. Then stunned them and apparated away.

Disillusioned, I walked towards the house of one very obtuse journalist. She wrote about the Death Eaters' crimes. What crimes, two rapes and a murder? It was self-defense! I already warned her twice in two weeks: burned down her house, cruciated her and obliviated the last five years of her life. And removed her leg bones. All without Dark magic, for easy recovery.

Now she was in the witness protection program. The warded house had two guards, one Auror and one trainee. While the elites fought giants and searched for the Dark Lord, this was a cushy alternative to shuffling papers. And if any Death Eaters decided to show up, the guards would simply call for backup.

I examined the house and two rookies who thought themselves camouflaged. No, everything was right. Why would Moody set up an ambush at the house of a reporter who was not even published in the Prophet? And the wards were decent. But not for Lord Voldemort.

I drank some more potions and imperceptibly prepared a couple of spells: blocking of magic emission and all types of travel, delayed soporific charm, runes of magic neutralization, and so forth. At the simultaneous activation, all three targets fell unconscious. I bestowed them with added stunning, paralysis, and restraining charms, put them in magic shackles and side-apparated everyone to a clearing I previously warded against magic detection.

What to do with the captives? Kill? It was too simple. People would see three graves and shed tears over their untimely deaths. And lo and behold, some young man or woman will get inspired with righteously burning fury and decide to fight evil. I did not need that. Heroes should stay home caring for their disabled parents, not train to avenge their deaths. Therefore, these three will get crippling spells. Of course, I would have killed them in battle, where the first priority was my own survival. But the current situation left room for creativity. Three more cripples should reduce the number of volunteers to play heroes.

The reporter went first. Rennervate followed by Crucio. The Cruciatus worked by creating phantom pain. If held under it for too long, the brain tried to reject the illusion. But because the illusion was so powerful, the brain ended up rejecting all other signals along with the pain - that is, stopped responsing to all stimuli. It took around four minutes of nonstop Cruciatus to make a catatonic patient. The reporter did not last very long. She was going to join the ward of "veggiwizards" at Mungo's. They had quite an influx of patients lately. Bellatrix and some others liked my new method and began emulating me.

Next, the sentinels of law and order. They had good death- and Unforgiveable-detection amulets that transmitted their location upon activation or removal. But I should avoid getting in the rut with Crucios, anyway. There were other spells to test.

With a Dark cutting curse, I removed the Auror's leg, arm and eye. Congratulations, you are now a cripple. Then, with a milder curse, I repeated the procedure on the other leg, arm and eye. And last but not least, his energy core and channels... One hour later, the Auror had heavy and extensive injuries to the energy system. The beauty of this procedure lay in the fact that parts cut off with milder curses could be restored. Restored with Dark magic based on human sacrifice banned by the Ministry. And my tweaks to his energy system will cause him pain with every spell. Once again, curable with Dark magic. So, he had two choices: be a useless cripple who cannot move, see or use magic without excruciating pain; or sacrifice two people and become like Moody. And the very Ministry in whose name he suffered these injuries will stand in the way of his recovery. And I left his tongue intact, so he will tell everyone about it.

The trainee Auror. Graduate of their new two year long accelerated program. My favorite kind of enemy. No, they usually did a great job shielding from Dark magic. Almost on the full-fledged Auror level. But all other magic types... Every one of them had a flaw. Some had no shields against radiation, some disregarded defenses against light... With only two years of education, their teachers had to prioritize. And so, trainees were a joy to kill: watch them with magical sight, throw in some revealing charms, determine their weakest or absent defense, and hit them with exactly that. For the public, the the fact all Auror trainees were killed with different spells was just another testament of Elena's sadism...

I wanted to test a very special spell on this one. It was still in early stages: zero shield penetration, flew slower than humans walked and fizzled out after fifteen feet. My ardent efforts produced a modified anesthetic spell seasoned with a heap of mistakes from healing magic practice. It activated the outer part of the energy core in the brain. In short, it was the anti-Cruciatus. He would feel very good.

The spell was still very raw and drained me of two average wizard reserves. I watched the patient: no reaction. Legilimency said nothing, I could feel no mind. He was stuck in his blissful inner world. What's more, I had no clue how to reverse it. His symptoms completely matched the reporter's: veggiwizard number two. Perhaps I should not cripple this one and see if they could find a way to reverse it at Mungo's... If they did, would he regain consciousness?

I gathered the three latest victims of the Dark Lord's insane student and left them concealed in Diagon. The concealment charms charms will soon fade. Just in case, I left a runic chain of delayed activation to cast the Dark Mark over their bodies in five minutes.

After returning home, I spent some time reading reports and newspaper clippings. Rita Skeeter published another sponsored article:

 _"_ _ **You-Know-Who's Most Terrifying Weapon**_

 _A new outbreak of inhuman crimes has struck Magical Britain. Terror became our new normal, but the cup of atrocities is once again overflowing._

 _Recently, the Death Eaters began operating_ _completely in the open, some no longer bothering to conceal their faces (see photo on front page). The DMLE confirmed that this woman used the Cruciatus no less than 83 times within the past three weeks alone. As a result, Twenty-six British magical citizens who publicly decried the politics of You-Know-Who are now permanent wards of St. Mungo's._

 _Despite their best efforts, the valiant witches and wizards of the DMLE have been unable to stop this monster. In the notorious incident in Lester, the aforementioned Death Eater got so carried away with the Cruciatus that she allowed a squad of Aurors to confront her. The result was tragic: all five were immediately burned with Fiendfyre._

 _Writer Barney Scarrow, a 110 year old owl animagus famous in certain circles, was able to resist with force when she attacked his home. Following multiple magical disturbances from Dark spells by both sides, three Hitwizards arrived to investigate. But even they proved powerless against the new terror. Mr. Scarrow was found dead on the scene, one of the Hitwizards_ _was wounded by an especially powerful curse, and the criminal escaped while the responders were battling Fiendfyre._

 _The events on the Isle of Wight provoked by far the largest public outcry. Seven young wizards were celebrating their graduation of the accelerated Auror program when the terror struck. Six were pronounced dead on the scene, the condition of one defies magical classification. One of the Auror first responders received a delayed curse and heavy injuries from an explosive rune._

 _The coroner who examined the bodies had this to say:_

 _"I've never seen anything like it in the 40 years of my career. I examined six corpses of wizards who were unlucky enough to cross paths with this Death Eater. She must be completely crazy and running around out there obsessed with original murder methods. I have never seen people killed in such preposterous ways. No sane individual could think of killing an actively resisting target by transfiguring their blood vessels into barbed wire. Or by vanishing all the bones. Or by pulling the lungs out through the throat. Or by simultaneously applying the paralysis and trash compactor charms. Or by combining the laundry rinsing and drying charms and targeting a human. Or by ripping out the heart with the appendix removal charm."_

 _"You previously said there were seven victims?"_

 _"One survived. Initially, we thought he was yet another victim of prolonged Cruciatus. But neither he nor the other six bodies had any traces of Dark magic. All this is one elaborate mockery of Magical Law: gruesome murders with legal spells. If she were ever indicted, she would face a maximum of 28 years for this incident. It would have been more humane to Avada them. Even Fiendfyre is more merciful."_

 _For more details, see part two on p.19: "In the Footsteps of a Monster." A collaborative journalistic investigation, interviews with the Head Auror of France, and memories of the relatives of David Mann, the shopkeeper murdered in Knockturn Alley..."_

And much more along the same lines... Yes, Rita knew her craft.

So, what else did we have on the agenda? There was some interesting new information on Dumbledore, but we needed the original source: Bathilda Bagshot. Skeeter had already loosened her tongue with Veritaserum and "borrowed some pictures and books." Was Albus really friends with Grindelwald?! This will be a sensation. But I needed more. And publish everything at the perfect time...

Meanwhile, I decided to visit Bathilda myself. I just so happened to have a handy spell that copied all of the target's memories. Dark and illegal because it left the victim completely and irreversibly insane. But Bathilda has lived more than enough.

I arrived to Godrick's Hollow as Elena. Still disillusioned, I knocked on the old lady's door and said I was a Hogwarts graduate who wanted an autograph for my _History of Magic_.

As soon as Bathilda opened the door, she received an overpower Confundus. I walked inside, and the rest rest was a matter of practice. Less than an hour later, all her memories were swimming in a pensieve I borrowed from the Lestranges. Of course, the woman tried to resist. But a well-prepared master of the Mind Arts against an old crone...

What to do with her now? Riddle had several fascinating projects, for example possessing human bodies with magical snakes... But that would be akin to leaving an autograph "Lord Voldemort was here." Therefore, after five hours of casting draining almost all of my energy and one ritual murder of a random muggle (had to swing by the Lestranges), Bathilda Bagshot's dead body now housed an Elder Spirit of Sorrow. Next to it, a single dementor was a cuddly puppy. The Spirit will imitate a live human well enough to pass for senile dementia and take care of the meat suit. And it could take its true form on my orders. For an average unprepared wizard, the Spirit guaranteed a cocktail of physical agony, psychological despair and severe schizophrenia.

I went ahead and improved her home defenses against scanning and apparition. Now no one will discover the Spirit here. Too bad these things could not be controlled more than one at a time... But this will do. I could already picture it: after the publication of the book called "The Crimes of Albus Dumbledore," a crowd of reporters comes to interview Bathilda. As soon as someone asks "was Albus really that bad?" they are all attacked by an Elder Spirit of Sorrow from the only witness...

For now, I had to go through a lifetime of memories and think of how to best shuffle them to show everyone Albus was evil. The story with his sister sounded rather murky... Steal her body and perform an autopsy? It will no doubt show his sister was a vampire. Why else would she take walks at night? Or maybe I could come up with something worse?

Bathilda was also a historian and related to Grindelwald... I should filter out and watch all the memories related to Nurmengard, surely Grindelwald will be delighted to share his memories with me... Though it will take years to prepare...

Three days later, I was again under the guise of Elena, unenthusiastically listening to Dolohov's speech. The plan boiled down to Elena, a dozen of ordinary Death Eaters, five Dementors and a couple of giants under command of Dolohov slaughtering muggles. Following my initiative, we would also be supported by twenty or so muggles under Imperius shooting muggle guns and yelling political slogans. Lately, Britain saw a steep increase of cloudy-eyed separatists and religious fanatics.

After explaining the plan of attack, Dolohov conducted a routine check of everyone's defensive charms. Naturally, his scanning charms did nothing to me.

"Everyone dismissed. We apparate in 11 minutes and immediately engage. Elena, stay behind."

Everyone walked out, and I faced Dolohov.

"Elena, I do not doubt your abilities. I personally witnessed them during your duel. But I need to check you to make sure you are ready for battle and give recommendations."

I removed my anti-scanning charm. Dolohov looked me over with a perfectly neutral expression. He definitely saw the Lord's style and something beyond him, the Lord's best duelist.

"The single most important quality in battle is discipline. I don't need soldiers who do whatever they want and can redeploy at any moment to prove their personal prowess. You must follow my exact orders and work as a team with everyone else. This is vital to the success of this raid and the success of our organization as a whole. Do you agree to participate on these conditions?"

What he meant was: you are stronger, but I am still in command; if you want to play a one-woman army, do it on your own time.

"The Dark Lord praised your leadership skills. I am ready to follow your orders. There will be no problems."

What was I supposed to say? Argue that I was better? Why? Elena did not need to quarrel with everyone, else even I won't save her. And Dolohov was as close to sensible as they got: during raids, he killed children painlessly or put them into shock to be revived at Mungo's. For a Death Eater, it was practically the International Red Cross.

We apparated to a small muggle town. The giants ripped out electrical poles and started using them as clubs to crush houses. The Death Eaters were throwing Reductos. Our muggles were shooting. The Imperius mucked up everyone's aim, but they at least provided good sound effects. And I was practicing transfiguration: conjuring muggle shells and grenades from air several hundred yards away. (Yesterday I visited a muggle military base and made a matrix for copying a variety of explosive toys. I really wanted to try transfiguring supercritical uranium, but it was too dangerous for both me and the Statute.)

I wouldn't go so far as to say my method was more effective, but it left evidence most clearly pointing to a terrorist attack. The Obliviator teams would probably spin it as a local skirmish... But that was the Ministry's problem.

Why were we doing this? No idea. Some came to have fun, others to gain experience. Personally, I was baiting the Aurors.

After couple of minutes, first responder teams began to arrive. Most fired stunners, Crouch's subordinates alternated between Stupefy and Avada Kedavra. We should kill him, I really didn't like his methods. But for now, it was time to show off the Dark Lord's student in all her might. Three regular Death Eaters and I faced two Aurors and three patrolmen.

I greeted them with a shower of Avadas and got two Avadas in return. Dodging, I screamed "Stupefy!" then silently added two more. The enemies dodged the killing curses. One threw up a shield against the stunner but did not expect two of Riddle's signature curses that followed it. The Auror's universal shield absorbed the first, but the second instantly turned her body into an ancient-looking mummy.

I transfigured a stone block to save some of our people from Avadas, then released Fiendfyre and followed it with Twilight Flame for a good measure. The enemy tried to resist, but I blanketed them with rabid terror and shadow paralysis. This was no throwing around stunners- these curses were difficult even for me.

The Death Eaters' faces may have been covered with masks, but I knew: they were looking at me like I was a god.

Ah, and there was the next enemy squad.

I conjured a blood whip into my left hand and rushed forward. Not because I was a brave hero, the enemy was just an easy target while trying to wrangle my cursed fire and overcome the nightmare curse.

Obedient creature-shaped flames parted before me. The blood golem was walking on my right. I ducked one Auror's Avada and cut his head off with the blood whip that swelled with enough energy to go through most shields. His partner was trying to flank me but got a face full of acid. I ducked behind the thick smoke of another enemy burning and screaming his lungs out, then hurled explosive runic disks at the live one. Minus two!

From within my mask, I heard the prearranged code signal from Dolohov: time to leave. We got spotted. I immediately activated the portkey thay took me away from the battle, then apparated to one of the Death Eater bases.

The debriefing established we lost all dementors and two Death Eaters but managed to lead both giants back to safety. The enemy's losses will have to be assessed, but by preliminary counts I killed seven, and everyone else (including the giants) a total of nine. This cost me three quarters of my actual reserve, but they were none the wiser. I used Lily's werewolf wand and carried an artifact the periodically activated Astral Cacophony.

In two more days, I walked down Diagon as Elena, with facial illusions on top of polyjuice. On the corner, a boisterous kid was selling newspapers. I gave him nine knuts for today's issue.

Elena's unmasked face was plastered right on the front page. I especially liked the reward amount: two million galleons. If I ever ran out of money...

"Life story of the Cursed Manticore is on page seven," the boy informed me.

"What Cursed Manticore?"

"You haven't heard? England has a new monster! She loves nothing more than torture her victims with the Cruciatus until they lose their minds and cut them up with a blood whip until are ground meat!"

And legilimency conformed it was true. Or more precisely, that the boy believed it.

"Who is she? Is she that ugly?"I asked, confused.

"What hole did you crawl out of, lady? She is the Cursed Manticore that's been terrorizing England for the last month! To meet her is certain death, they say she is an evil spirit who lives on the blood of her victims. I don't want to know what cursed abyss You-Know-Who found her in!"

For a moment, I stood dumbfounded with culture shock... But a preteen boy was not necessarily an indication... I decided to walk around Diagon with passive legilimency, gathering the picture from memories and thought snippets of the weakest-looking people.

The rumors circulating around Elena were truly blood-curdling. People said she was a bloodthirsty maniac, a horrible black witch (not Dark, specifically black! Wish I knew what they meant, maybe African?) who casually destroyed squads of experienced Aurors all by herself. A cruel monster with no mercy who placed terrified wizards under Imperius to force them to serve You-Know-Who.

I sat down at the Leaky Cauldron to listen to more rumors. I should not have done that...

Speaking in low voice and never taking eyes off his mug, one very obviously drunk wizard assured everyone that his acquaintance worked at St. Mungo's and secretly told him how several young Aurors ended up the mental ward after going insane from pleasure. The Cursed Manticore was famous for her love of young and beautiful people, men and women alike. And he heard she was also a succubus! No wonder she dressed like a whore!

Well, the last part was my mistake. Neither I nor Tom knew much about women's fashion. I could not always wear a Death Eater uniform in the streets, so I either copied Bellatrix's outfits or copied similar robes from shop windows and pages of "Witch Weekly." They were evening robes? What was the difference?

While trying to work out where my plan went wrong, I heard the descriptions of her appearance. Nobody knew the monster's name, but they readily discussed her features. Incredibly tall and wide in the shoulders, she could tear a grown hippogriff apart with her bare hands! Her face was cruel and arrogant, hiding hideous scars under illusions. To top it all, her gaze could vaporize an Auror on the spot or blow up a small squad. Next to her, Bellatrix looked like a sweet schoolgirl.

"She is definitely an evil spirit, I tell you!" a drunk old man heatedly argued to a small crowd of bystanders. "You-Know-Who freed her from the cursed forest, where Merlin imprisoned her centuries ago!"

"How the hell is she a spirit?" slurred another barely conscious drunk. "What's a spirit do with handsome men?"

"Everyone knows what!" the old man was not relenting. "Torture them and feed on their blood! She is an evil spirit, don't you get it?! Penance to this world!"

"You're too drunk!" someone else argued. "Cursed Manticore is a special Dark witch who was from a young age trained in Durmstrang to serve You-Know-Who! My brother in law does business with Bulgarians, it's reliable information!"

"Yes, exactly! I heard they only teach Dark magic and train kids like animals, to kill without hesitation..." a man dressed in rags of indeterminable color joined the conversation.

And I was thoroughly checking myself for mental influences and foreign potions. Nothing. The drink I ordered stayed untouched in my hand. Now I will never drink anything here. Even the barkeep did not want to suffer their nonsense and left.

As I was walking out of the pub and still trying to comprehend this new reality, I suddenly felt a change in the ambient magic. Something was stopping apparition and portkeys. Something of very good quality. I could not pinpoint the source of the block, and waving my wand with scanning charms was not the best idea. Before me appeared five Aurors.

"This is a law enforcement operation. Multiple traces of legilimency have been detected at the Diagon Alley market. State your name, remove all illusion and anti-scanning charms, and surrender your wand for identification."

I got busted. Did I go through their heads too roughly? Or someone had decent occlumency or amulets that at least registered an intrusion... And that someone alerted the Aurors, who were now sweeping the steets for suspects. I had three wands, each full of illegal spells. Without anti-scanning charms, I would glow like a star- this body still had the Lord's power... Not to mention magical signature and polyjuice tests...

Why were they checking me, specifically? I was too well-dressed for this dump. Drank nothing at the pub. Had facial illusions... Maybe the barkeep turned me in.

On the bright side, they did not immediately attack me... I could not simultaneously fool five Aurors with legilimency. Fiendfyre? This was Diagon, the entire DMLE would come running! Legal charms? Not enough to subdue five battle-ready Aurors. And considering how dangerous the situation has been lately, they might call for backup anyway.

The main priority was to avoid killing them. A death amulet would attract a crowd of enemies. Mind made up, I attacked them with wandless "pain arrows" and applied a withering curse to the ground. At the same time, waves of my wand blocked all levitation and activated my Astral Cacophony-generating artifact to at least temporarily disable their communications. Turning into smoke, I flew straight up like a fighter jet to leave the warded area. The ground below flared with activated defenses. Did I even hit anyone? They sent disarmers and other standard charms after me, but with my shields these were all but unnoticeable.

I almost made it to the ward border when I felt multiple apparitions and expansion of the anti-transgressive charms. I tried pushing through the rapidly thickening and darkening air but was forced to land.

"Hominum Revelio" showed twelve people walking towards me and about fifty chaotically running in all directions.

"Surrender! You are surrounded! Drop your wands, artifacts and shields, and walk forward with your hands raised! Or we will curse without warning!"

I recognized that voice amplified by Sonorus. It was Alastor Moody.


	21. The Death Eater Who Lived

With a wave of my wand, I applied illusions to a part of the crowd: some now looked like Elena, some had simple cosmetic glamours hiding their true eye color, some acquired illusory pendant artifacts... Hopefully, decoy targets will at least somewhat slow the enemy down...

"Tony! Gaby!" I snapped my fingers.

But the DMLE did not hire idiots - my house elves didn't show. Have they always blocked house elf apparition or began after my adventure with Ollivander? My thoughts were racing at record speeds.

What to do? I was facing a mob of Aurors and Moody. All of them together would thrash me. Tom developed a plan to defeat Alastor Moody in open battle, but it relied on a one-to-one fight. And even if I killed Moody, there were more than enough Aurors to do me in...

Magical fights hinged on more than just the sum of the participants' power. It was equally as important to have an advantage in experience, arsenal of spells, the speed of casting, and even physical body condition: however much you accelerated, it was always better to accelerate an already fast young body. And magical reserve itself was no universal measure of power. The simplest analogy would be a game of basketball. Easy to win against dwarfs, but every move made you slightly shorter... eventually you got to their level and kept shrinking... And in battle, a wizard without magical energy was effectually a muggle who sensed Dementors and was not affected by muggle-repelling charms.

How to keep my cover and, more importantly, survive? If the Dark Lord was discovered masquerading as a woman... Although, not even the Lord could take out two dozen Aurors alone. I felt a dozen, but more were either hiding or would arrive soon. This was Diagon Alley, not the Isle of Wight...

Call the Death Eaters? Too evincive of the Lord. Besides, if my servants came, so would Albus with his goons. Right now, the Order avoided interfering with an official anti-terrorism operation - they were, after all, a "secret society." But if it came to an epic showdown that promised a real chance to end the war in one hit, this place will get very crowded. In the best case scenario, I alone will escape alive. Not to mention that even the thickest heads would wonder why the Lord was missing the pivotal battle.

But I always had a way out. No, not suicide. Luck.

A tiny vial jumped into my hand. Felix Felicis. I drank it, and by the time I habitually put the empty vial back into my pocket, the world around me bloomed with new colors.

I did not understand what exactly happened. I simply realized that my situation was not as hopeless as it seemed a second ago. Fresh ideas zoomed through my mind almost on their own volition. Dozens of them were discarded every moment until only one remained: breaking through under the cover of hostages. The raging volcano of emotions inside me interfused into something indescribable and unalike the original Voldemort. I felt fury but no hatred. Malice alongside joy. Fear mixed with excitement.

I started weaving two spells to cover the entire area of the anti-apparition ward, all the while drinking more doping potions. Fortunately, the bottles were no larger than a thimble, and the panicking crowd distracted the Aurors.

First went Delayed Pain, Delayed Rebound, Universal Antidote, Temporary Antidote and Foreign Sacrifice. Then, the more specialized Great Acceleration, Flesh Transmutation, Divine Reflexes, Pestilent Blood, Owl, Sacrificial Tears, the Draught of Omnipotence (unfortunately it didn't grant omnipotence, only improved some magical abilities), the Elixir of Vitality, the Draught of Magic Resistance, Dragon's Breath, Mopsus's Solution, the Fire Resistance potion, the Guardian Elixir, the Wit-Sharpening potion... A third of these would land me a stay in Azkaban, another third - the dementor's kiss. Most were brewed by Snape.

Too bad that most of what I drank caused deadly interactions. My head rang like a hundred church bells. Blood changed composition and consistency. Heart stopped for a stifling moment, before restarting. With a force of will, I banished away multicolored blurs that obstructed most of my vision, then shoved the sharp stomach ache and voices in my head out of my conscious mind. This cocktail would no doubt send most wizards to their graves before they could finish the first half. I was alive only thanks to the antidotes, blood mastery and several life-support charms I cast on myself.

I was now ready. For several minutes, I will be very powerful and have additional magical abilities... Then experience a rapid decline. As for the price... Considering everything I drank, losing about a decade of life... Plus pain and convulsions for several months, magical exhaustion worse than Snape's after the Drink of Despair, and a number of relatively minor effects.

The first change I noticed was an incredible expansion of awareness. The potions allowed me to see through people, walls, ground... The magic permeating everything looked unprecedentedly clear. I saw... no, sensed everyone within a hundred meters around me, the life pulsating in them. Aside from civilians, Moody and the Aurors, I felt another two squads and five Hitwizards hidden under quality concealment. The five Aurors that confronted me first were also approaching from around the corner. In sum, 26 uniformed Aurors, five Hitwizards covered in artifacts and Alastor Moody. A bit much...

My movements accelerated until the civilians looked almost frozen in time. Before they made a single step, I finished all the potions and sorted the empty vials into my pockets (no need to leave saliva samples). The Aurors moved 3-5 times faster, but for me they were still very slow.

My area spells took effect. What did Moody say, drop all shields? I transfigured all the air under the anti-apparition dome and part of the pavement into magical gas. It cost me another average reserve- the task was simple but large in volume.

Transfiguration of gases was too dangerous? Not my problem. What will the people breathe? Also not my problem. No, this was nothing like sarin. If I killed all the civilians, the Aurors would start hitting with area spells and not hold back. Corpses could be picked up later. On the other hand, injured magical citizens in need of rescue... I need a functional live shield.

Tom developed this gas in one of his many research experiments. It caused pain, paralysis and gradual shutting down of organs. Useless apart from torture: it took a long time to kill and could be stopped with a simple air filtration charm or a thousand other ways.

Moody ordered to take off all defenses. You don't want to die? Use the air filtration or bubble head charm and become a target for the Aurors. They would only hit with stunners, but the panic is going to help me. It would take them a while to clear out the air- transfiguration of gases was not taught at Hogwarts, and the Aurors were no healers. And once someone figures out how to reverse the transfiguration... The noxious gas will turn into air and parts of the pavement in their lungs and blood. These people would easily survive if part of the Aurors focus on giving them first aid and transporting them to the healers. Which will require removing or at least weakening the wards. What was more important, catching a criminal or saving dozens of people? Hey, Moody, did you take an oath to protect or to kill? Are you an Auror or a bounty hunter?

Multiple revealing charms stripped layers of my camouflage, but thanks to the modified invisibility potion I would stay undetected for a little longer. Dozens of civilians who either had no shields or took them off were writhing on the ground. They kept getting hit with multiple Finite's, but all for naught. And field teams staffed no healers or transfiguration masters... However, the people's lives were in no danger if Moody made the right choice.

The Aurors were stunning the bystanders who were too panicked or slow to remove their defensive charms. They will sort the innocents from the Death Eaters later, in temporary holding cells.

To force the Aurors to waste energy on protecting the stunned civilians, I conjured a cursed pestilence cloud above the anti-apparition ward. The surplus of energy I pumped in should stop them from dispersing it too fast. The remaining shielded civilians who saw the curse and could not apparate should now think twice about obeying the Aurors' demands and distract them even more.

The risk of getting recognized as the Lord was minuscule. In this pandemonium, nobody could tell who cast what and with how much energy. Or maybe I had a powerful single-use artifact?

"Remove only the anti-scanning charms and illusions!" -Moody roared a new order at the suspects.

Excellent. Now, they should not fire at another running woman who at first glance had no anti-scanning charms... Or least not fire all at once.

I conjured illusions of Death Eaters and werewolves darting through the crowd to increase the panic, then removed my own facial illusion charms and took off towards the nearest border of the ward at human speed. While running, I made a show of frantically casting verbal filtration charms on myself and quietly hit the survivors with wandless spells. Some civilians got their filtration charms dispelled and joined the epileptic dance party on the ground. Others received additional painful but not immediately lethal curses.

Most of my enemies were helping the civilians or trying to cancel the pestilence curse, the rest were searching for me. The squad led by Moody finally managed to spot me and attacked.

I got showered with spells: a modified paralyzer from Moody, then a cascade of stunners everyone else, followed by penetrators, revealing and illusion dispelling charms, cancellation of transfiguration and more of the like. I lost all camouflage except polyjuice. My enemies now saw a deathly pale woman with solid black eyes and inflamed, pulsing black veins all over her body. Potion overdose never flattered anyone.

"Only one target! The rest are illusions!" - Moody screamed.

That thrice-cursed magical eye! The Death Eater illusions were fooling even some Aurors.

I faced simultaneous spells from two dozen opponents. Mostly weak and non-lethal but certainly very efficient. I answered with cancellations of the bubblehead charm and air filtration- let some more drop from the gas.

They tried transfiguring me into a bird and a worm, but my charms against transfiguration saved me from getting stuck as an animal without access to magic. The defenses against electricity absorbed dozens of bright yellow lightnings. Elemental shields stopped several weak to average freezing charms.

Moody threw a Delictuus at me. I did not trust my defenses to save me from getting splintered into pieces, so I blocked it and the rest of trifles accompanying it with the blood shield. The kinetic shield absorbed all hits from air whips that could sever a tank. I deflected several Ingruo energy balls with wandless dispelling charms. Stunners, binders and paralysis charms fell so thick and fast that I had to cover with modified Protego.

In return to all that, the enemy received the Well of Darkness I prepared while on the defensive. The Aurors's ranks were split by a ten meter long crack in reality that began leaking black fog. Two enemies died instantly. This spell was as exquisite as Fiendfyre, only with corrosive fog in place of flames. Moody and the hitwizards immediately forgot about me and started blocking this curse.

And here were the first Crucios and Avadas flying at me. De facto not so illegal when the target was a Death Eater... Esecially since I successfully defended from over two dozen Aurors and already killed two. Someone lost their nerve.

I simply dragged several stunned civilians on the curses' path. Their charms may be blocking telekinesis, but under Mopsus's Draught I could lift a train car wandlessly. You all started the Unforgiveables first, so their deaths were on your conscience. From behind the bodies, I took advantage of the Dragon's Breath potion and spat out jets of flame at my opponents.

Now I faced an endless sea of conditionally-banned spells. Their density was so high it put my passive defenses on the verge of failure. In a few more moments, I would either begin taking hits or go on complete defensive, which was tantamount to a drawn-out defeat. I hit them back, but every time I damaged someone's shield, they regrouped behind their colleagues' backs. As if that was not enough, some of the Aurors gathered behind the main force and were quietly weaving something I could only guess was a highly lethal curse.

I moved on to the second part of my plan.

"Lord Voldemort, give me strength!" I bellowed as convincingly as I could. If I was going to play a fanatic, I better do it right. A couple of Aurors flinched at the name.

I activated my magic concealment artifact. As it squeaked and turned into dust, it gave out one last overpowered Astral Cacophony. Hopefully, it would cut off their communications for a few moments. I pulled Peruvian Darkness powder out of my pocket and simultaneously conjured a thick smoke screen. A large part of the warded area instantly plunged into darkness that was impervious to light and fire charms. It would hold last for several seconds, and that was all I needed.

My opponents could not rely on vision or the radar-like artifacts and charms they shared with basilisk hunters. If I fought schoolchildren, this would have been the end. But the Aurors were slowly dispelling the darkness with specialized charms while hiding behind transfigured shields.

I pulled out my real wand, cherry and Nagini's scale. Levitating myself an inch above the ground to not be discovered by vibrations, I implemented the next stage of my plan: a chain of Imperios. The few civilians still on their feet received orders to attack the Aurors and Imperio new victims with the same. I also conjured new Death Eater illusions, changed into the same uniform myself, started two separate cursed fires, and darted away at the speed of a race car.

The first Fiendfyre distracted Moody from pelting me with freezing and congealing curses (his magical eye saw through the darkness just as well as I did under potions). The other passed underground and attacked the five huddled Aurors, at the very least thwarting whatever supercharged spell they were preparing.

During my sprinting and dodging self-guiding curses, I pulled out all the explosive pebbles I had with telekinesis and hurled them straight up. Soon it will rain explosions. The Aurors will survive, but the civilians will be in pieces if no one protected them... Only the one who made these little runic toys could move them with magic, so my enemies will be forced to raise additional shields.

As an additional distraction, I threw at them all the offensive magical plant seeds I had - those that grew aggressively, emitted heat and spat acid.

My enhanced luck clearly showed. Most spells were missing me, and I caught a wonderful opportunity for an attack: three Aurors lined up too close to each other. A jab of my wand sent a Dragonhunter's Spear right at them, giving me a momentary whiplash. It looked like an inconspicuous black spear, but it carried a force that easily penetrated a full grown dragon's skin and magical defenses (reaching the heart or the brain to kill it was a different matter). And it flew very fast. Minus three!

I sacrificed a liter of my blood for several thin blood ribbons. Some were quickly destroyed, but the rest did their job: sprinkled unconscious civilians with drops of my blood and tried to cut up the Aurors. One of the potions I drank made my blood poisonous. If they were not helped in time, the death will be quite painful... As an added benefit, the black slush in my veins could no longer be magically traced to me.

But when I reached the ward edge, the dome refused to let me through! I tried a greater shield penetrator, Dragonhunter's spear and gave it a few hits with a blood whip - all for naught. Now what? Draw runes on the ward dome? Under enemy fire?

The deaths of seven opponents -two from the Well, two from Fiendfyre, three from the spear- did not bring me any joy. First of all, there was still a swarm of them while I was holding on only thanks to potions. Second, the very edge of my perception registered the arrival of more people. They were outside the ward, but the reinforcements will probably keep coming. Very soon I will be surrounded by half of the DMLE.

The enemy finally took care of the smoke screen and the Peruvian Darkness. My distraction barely lasted three seconds. Moody and his team drank additional potions. Judging by their dramatically increased efficiency, the potions included Felix Felicis. Hitwizards were supposed to have it in their emergency kit... I wonder, will their luck offset mine? But that's all right. My potions were still better because we were not squeamish about ritually torturing a couple of people.

I cast another Fiendfyre at the ward. Astonishingly, it held. It let Avadas through, but what was the use? I was not a killing curse.

Wandlessly, I covered an area of the ward dome with blood runes of aging, neutralization and magic drain. The thin black lines sizzled with potion energy.I had to stall for time. Just a little longer to punch a hole through... Hopefully. If no one messed up my artwork.

I chose to target the Aurors. Moody and the Hitwizards were stronger and under the luck elixir. I should also aim to cripple instead of killing... Maybe it will undermine their morale or force them to open an evacuation corridor for the injured.

A tried and true combination of curses flew at the closest Auror. He blocked the rotting swarm, though part of his passive defenses vanished. The shields thrown up by his colleagues absorbed the Umbra rune. But the Spirit Fracture finished him off- another rambling lunatic, coming right up! Now he will hear nothing but voices in his head for the rest of his life. Thousands of loud voices that can't be silenced with sleeping draughts, drugs or magic. If he does not kill himself, he will probably be humanely euthanized.

Displaying marvelous feats of acrobatics to dodge most curses and not stray far from the ward edge, I decided to also set records in speech speed. I managed over twenty well-enunciated Avada Kedavras in a second and sent them out in a fan pattern. One Auror was too slow and calmed down forever, the rest dodged and shielded. But the dodged killing curses continued flying further... Several Aurors had to raise a dirt wall to cover the stunned and dying people on the ground.

One my opponents got too carried away with transfigured shields... But they did nothing against mental attacks, so the ditz got hit with a swarm of small dark blobs. While I could not get into his mind, frying his brains with a wanded deranging storm was all too easy. One more officer of peace forever lost his mind.

His friends retaliated. Moody cast a Giant's Slap, everyone else supported him with ramming charms and Crucios. They were afraid to use killing curses in case I shielded with more people, but Crucios were just as bad. Someone added an even higher quality telekinesis block, and my live shield was too far...

Fine. I've already given them more than enough opportunities to defend the civilians. Draining the majority of what was left of my magical energy, my wand shot out dozens of long tentacles made of thick smoke. The curse targeted everyone in several hundred meter radius simultaneously. Three Aurors died. More than ten got thrown back and slammed into the opposite side of the ward. Some unlucky civilians turned into rotting bodies. The tentacles continued attacking everyone in reach, but they were rapidly getting dispelled.

I found myself directly facing Moody, five Hitwizards and four Aurors. Still over the top, but compared to the beginning of this battle, this was paradise. My reflexes were extremely sharpened. Only Moody and the Hitwizards could match half my speed. Now to distract them with something...

Taking the enemy spells on blood and transfigured shields, I moved closer under the cover of Twilight Flame and injured two Aurors with a blood whip. Considering the fact that today my blood was poisonous, they were at least out of commission.

One of the Aurors suddenly screamed that I was Voldemort.

I cut him with the blood whip, then made it dull with my will and threw his still alive body at the ward. It did not let the Auror through, either. The result was the same as if he slammed into a concrete wall at high speed.

"You dare say the Master's name?!" I screamed, without stopping my barrage of nonverbal blood vanishers.

Actually, even now some of my Dark spells were weaker than Riddle's in his normal condition. But I easily took the second place even without potions.

Spells spoke louder than words. To convince them I was not the Lord, I conjured my therstral Antipatronus and summoned a couple of Lesser Spirits of Sorrow as weaker replacements for dementors. Even if the Antipatronus shape could change, it must not be so much weaker. The opponents answered with Patronuses and Spears of Light.

I felt the steady approach of magical exhaustion. But Moody with his people were still standing, and most of the Aurors thrown back by the tentacles were getting up. No matter. We'll live to see another day. I still had a lot of blood left.

I stood ten meters from Moody and his Hitwizards. This was the elite. Even with a blood whip in each hand, flinging highly lethal Dark spells at point-blank range while spinning like a top, I could not kill a single one. And healing and household charms powerlessly bounced off their shields.

A stray Auror attempting to join our fight ran into my spell and got stripped down to bare skeleton. To deter any more heroes, I cast a Firepath at the civilians. My version was more of a fire valley. It ignited everything non-living and threatened to spread through entire Diagon Alley.

Honorable Aurors, surely you are going to save law-abiding magical citizens from the fire? It is your fault they are defenseless and stunned. While not Fiendfyre, this would burn unconscious humans well enough.

The valley of fire stretched to the opposite edge the ward. I was left alone with Moody and his team - the rest focused on rescuing the survivors from fire. Or did Moody order them to stay back because only his people had the luck elixir?

To be completely honest, even if I were fresh as a summer morning, I still wouldn't be able to take them down by myself.

They tried to burn me, drown me in melted metal, bathe me in acid, transfigure me into pure hydrogen, impale me with Dragonhunter's spears, vaporize me with Great Lightning. In response, I showered them with Avadas and wandless blasting curses.

It was then when the dreaded wave of euphoria washed over me. The first sign of some potions losing their effects... I had to concentrate. Reign myself in with mental magic. Drink another wit-sharpening...

Everything became insignificant. The Aurors, Moody, the confrontation in Diagon, my strange appearance in this world... Everything. Only the fight remained. Only I and six opponents. Truly experienced opponents. Powerful. Dangerous... And therefore infinitely exciting!

Magic that flowed through my body was singing with pleasure. One of the Hitwizards finally missed a great defense penetrator. The unraveling charm that followed left him lying on the ground in motionless colorful pieces of flesh- liver separately, brain separately, intestines and part of the blood vessels straightened in a neat long line.

The next victim, a young dark-skinned Hitwizard, surprisingly managed to block three curses in the row and dodge two killing curses. Then his colleagues covered him, and I had to shift my attention to blocking Moody's ball lightnings.

Both of Moody's eyes, the real and the fake, glowed with hatred and astonishment: no one other than Lord Voldemort and Albus should be able to endure this tempo. A number of factors were saving me from exposure: no yew wand, no conjured snakes or Parseltongue, Dark spells fell short of the Lord's level... Why was I so powerful? He saw my face and must recognize the symptoms of several illegal potions.

The situation kept worsening. Newly arrived Aurors on the outside of the ward put out my Fiendfyre and dispelled my runes. I'm afraid making a doorway will now be out of question... So, a new plan. If running was impossible, then it was time to play dead. Hurrah for a big explosion!

Lasf chance. Last dregs of power for decent spells, only thanks to blood. I targeted Moody with artifact failure, artifact destruction and destruction of light filtration charms, then created a very powerful flash of light in a spectrum only visible to his magical eye. Ideally, he would collapse with sensory shock and let me kill him. But the artificers who made his eye were no idiots. Instead of frying his brain, the eye shut off.

I prepared my final attack: Black Sun and Fiendfyre, with myself in the epicenter. First appeared a rapidly expanding opaque sphere that damaged everything it touched. When my enemies stopped its growth beyond couple dozen meters, they were attacked by cursed fire bursting from within.

And me? I stood in a blind spot, quickly covering myself with a mountain of concealment charms. Then transfigured myself into a cloud of smoke and seeped underground over twenty meters deep. Unfortunately, their anti-apparition ward continued underground. But it would take them a while to discover me- with cursed flames and darkness raging on the surface, thorough scanning was not a priority. And I disabled Moody's eye.

I lied in wait for them to start transporting the injured. After all, the Dark witch was dead. To avoid capture by the superior enemy forces, she used all her blood on two overpowered Dark curses to take as many people as she could with her.

The energy field rippled and changed: someone outside the ward dome was weakening it. Dozens of new people arrived on the scene: teams of mediwizards, various members of the DMLE, and Barty Crouch Sr. himself. The mediwizards began administering first aid to the survivors and preparing them for transport to St. Mungo's.

I stocked up on polyjuice and hairs of other people prior to going out, but results of its reaction with the seething cocktail in my blood... Most likely death or unconsciousness. Or if I got lucky, I'd only glow like a chandelier in magical sight.

Luckily, I already drank the Flesh Transmutation potion. (Only one sacrifice, and you had a potion that let you look however you wanted for about 15 minutes. But not recommended more than once a year.) Appearing as a different man, I crawled out of the ground away from the main crowd.

Far away, mediwizards were insisting on immediate evacuation. Moody screamed they must heal on site because he will not let anyone out without a full scan. At the same time, he was putting out the fire and casting non-stop scanning charms. This was very bad. If my camouflage was discovered, I won't survive another battle. Despite my killing 19 opponnents, the number of Aurors was now even greater. Moody's check protocol would reveal me even without a magical eye.

But then Crouch Sr. cut off Moody's profane rant. He said that since all qualified healers were at Mungo's, the injured must be immediately transported there, escorted by mediwizards and the trainee Aurors he brought. And that looking for the enemy body was pointless when all evidence pointed to an out of control Fiendfyre.

Since Moody headed the Aurors and Crouch Sr. headed the DMLE, Moody received a direct order to go get a medical check and start on the reports. Disgruntled Moody spat at his feet, gathered his team -both survivors and pieces of the dead- and left by portkey.

How wonderful that the Ministerial election was around the corner! Crouch jumped on every opportunity to gather political points for his campaign, and helping to save dozens of people would make quite an impact. But if he was a deceitful Dark wizard helping the Dark Lord's student escape... He'd be eaten alive.

Even though the potion benefits were fading and the withdrawal effects progressed to chills and cramps, my mood immediately improved.

Apparition from the inside and house elf movement were still blocked. The ward was impenetrable, it would take me 20 minutes to break it with a bright light show. Were they fueling it from the Ministry? Stealing a specialized portal they used to send the survivors to Mungo's would solve nothing- their activation was tied to one pre-configured person's magical signature. I'd take the next easiest way.

My body was already covered with bruises and scrapes. I added some burns, vanished caked black blood, conjured worn clothes, and applied several layers of defensive and masking charms expected of an average wizard. The mediwizard team emanating the least magic was easy to spot. Predicting their path, I lied down around the corner and called for help.

I fought the temptation to Imperio them and order to take me away from here. What if we caught someone's attention? Or they resisted the curse? Or the portkey was charmed to not work for someone under Imperius? Or someone around here had Unforgivable-detecting amulets? I noticed two Unspeakables examining the ground and could not understand what they were waving around... Some modified charm detectors? Better leave the Imperius for the last resort.

"Help! I need to get to Mungo's! I lost my wand!" I pleaded as pitifully as possible.

Before them lay an unarmed, frail, balding man with multiple bruises and sprains- I barely blocked a couple of battering charms and paid a steep price for my acceleration and acrobatic moves. The air had already been returned to normal, so I took off all my normal defenses.

It was so tempting to use legilimency or confound them... But I had a better solution.

I wore no illusions and would pass the polyjuice test. And they lacked qualifications to check me for Flesh Transmutation. Rather than send feedback into the mind, their revealing and medical diagnostic charms displayed the results as garlands of glowing spheres in the air. The mediwizards then made preliminary diagnosis based on their number and glow. And so, instead of influencing the people, I influenced their spells. Wandlessly, I hid some glowing balls within slightly larger ones of different color and concealed the ones that indicated magical exhaustion and illegal potion use. The results they saw now corresponded with several fractures, gas poisoning and multiple sprains and burns.

Simple wandless illusion charms felt like they jerked and pulled the very life out me. I'd have to run as soon as I get to St. Mungo's - any decent healer would see through my fake diagnosis.

The mediwizards put me on a stretcher and pulled out some amulets. One moment of portkey travel - and we reappeared at St. Mungo's. The hall was filled to the brim with victims. Some mediwizards were administering first aid on the spot, others sorted patients into proper rooms.

Not killing everyone was a great call. If I ended up here alone, it would have looked beyond suspicions... Now they all had more important issues to occupy their attention. Some survivors were throwing up blood. Some nursed major burns from the last charmed fire. Some were trying to strangle themselves - I overdid it with the Imperius. Next to all that, another wounded man with an overall condition diagnostic sphere displaying a pale yellow triangle did not draw any attention. Most victims were trailed by black, red or bright orange ones.

My escorts apparated back to the scene. Another mediwitch asked for my name -Bard Wallace- then levitated me to the ward on a stretcher. Real healers were busy fighting for the lives of those I had hit with the more unpleasant curses. She put me in a bed next to two other unconscious patients and gave me strengthening, dreamless sleep and anesthetic potions. Sorry, but I won't be drinking these or any other potions any time soon.

Healers and mediwizards worked with no or very minimal protections because most interfered with scanning and medical charms. For instance, the air scalpel was extremely precise but required a complete lack of barriers between the caster and the patient. This woman was no exception. Killing or taking anyone with me would be all risk and no reward... We were soon going to get new material from Africa, my emissaries almost settled a deal with the local criminals... Doing my best to ignore the pain, I cast a wandless Confundus and Obliviate at the mediwitch. She froze with blank eyes, and walked out.

They might eventually notice my disappearance, but a patient could have easily gone home without signing out. The guards were already trying to calm the crowd of worried relatives barging into the emergency wing. With words, for now.

The hospital's anti-apparition ward was far too strong for my condition. But the ward against house elves was a different story. The elves needed a way to move efficiently - who else was going to clean the bedpans? I learned much about house elves since my fight against the Longbottoms and knew just how to punch an discreet temporary hole. The spell felt like diving into scalding water. I wanted to scream- another month of this to look forward to! If only we had potions to restore magical energy with no side effects... Wizards would have long ago conquered the world...

"Tony! Gaby!" I called.

The two house elves instantly appeared.

"Take me away from here with a chain of apparitions, quickly!"

Nice hospital, but I'd rather rest it off at home. This Christmas of 1981 would surely be remembered for years to come.


	22. The Dark Lord's Big Lie

The house elves brought me home. I felt like an addict at the height of withdrawal, and it was only going to get worse.

Escaping Diagon Alley filled with Aurors took precedence over health. The initial weakness and spasms were tolerable, but now I could no longer deny the obvious. Using magic was getting increasingly difficult... and painful. Pulling my bed closer with the telekinesis spell I've always used almost unconsciously now felt like it was ripping out my fingers. A full-fledged battle spell would probably kill me before succeeding.

I should stay far away from battles for at least a month as well.

Upon arrival, I ordered Tony to hurry back to Elena and tell her to stay inside and keep her head down. What a fine joke if she was seen elsewhere while I was razing Diagon... I'd have blame everything on a time-turner. She was supposed to sit at home every time I went out wearing her face - I made her schedule for training at the Lestranges myself.

The second house elf popped off to the Lestranges with a message that my student overestimated herself and miraculously escaped, and I was busy reviving her after potion intoxication. And that I did not need help.

Now what? The right way would be to rest it off at home. But I must regularly showcase my eminence and prove my status as the strongest wizard. Authority was hard to gain and all too easy to lose.

Then, the decision was obvious: take today off to recuperate, dedicate tomorrow to paperwork, then call a meeting the day after. At the meeting, give a worthy, plausible explanation of my future unavailability - nefarious plots, Dark rituals, healing my failure of a student... I also needed to think of what to actually do all this time when I am magically handicapped. And find a way to not to faint from pain in front of the servants...

Potions overdose... There were many ways to cure or abate it. But with the quantity and the combination I drank, I could only wait for it to run its course. Memory suggested several solutions involving piles of sacrifices in runic circles... I would need multiple assistants... Imbeciles could not participate in the ritual, and knowledgeable people would quickly put two and two together. Ten years of life was not worth the risk of being discovered. When I am immortal, shouldn't I be able to drink mixes like that without consequences? Subtracting ten years from eternity left eternity...

With these thoughts, I drank the only potion I could safely consume: a muggle emetic. The sight I made was something any journalist would sacrifice their hand to witness and Dumbledore could use for his anti-Dark propaganda: the Dark Lord hugging a toilet...

The house elves soon returned: Lily stayed home, and the Lestranges were informed. Snape knew about my conducting business as Elena since the very beginning. And the rumors of her death... Lily did not participate in operations, and if he was concerned about the Lord's health he needed only check his Mark to see that I survived.

Having finished with all urgent issues, I went to bed. This was the very first night I simply slept and did not review any memories.

I woke up early to a feeling of high fever, hangover and aftereffects of a beating all at once. Everything hurt. Well, not intolerably like the Cruciatus - I could still move and think. It was beyond aggravating to be unable to use spells or potions to treat it. But at least the pain could be somewhat dulled with a mental effort... Everything would be completely bleak otherwise.

Then came the most miserable part: defensive charms. Strictly speaking, I had magical exhaustion. A little got replenished overnight, but I was still weaker than a fifth year. It was back to casting with blood and no replenishing potion... I found a knife, cut my hand and began. The olfactory defense charm felt like a Firestorm. After the anti-scanning charm, I had to lie down for two more hours... No, at this pace I would faint before finishing...

I had no choice but to limit myself to masking my condition and two defensive charms: universal and mana shield. I'd be surprised if they held off one average hit. From the outside there appeared no indication that I was barely alive. The house elf confirmed. I ordered him to follow me disillusioned and ready to take me home if I smelled trouble.

The house elf apparated me to the Lestranges. Edward and I walked to my study at their house, and he put up privacy wards.

"My Lord, the house elf delivered your message. If you wish, your servants are ready to assist you with any rituals or prepare potions. Unfortunately, your message did not say whether we must inform the others of Elena's survival. And so, we did not say anything. Because of the _Prophet_ extra in which the Ministry puffed up their "victory," the others think Elena is dead. Your received stacks of letters of condolences from the Inner Circle. I took the liberty of checking them for curses and potions. Everything is clear. Rosier wrote an especially lengthy epic. He asked me to relay to you that he wishes to meet you personally and express his deepest condolences. Also, I dare say, my Lord, that Bellatrix has been acting very strange lately. Perhaps you should speak to her."

"We will have a meeting soon. Everyone will learn Elena is alive there," I waved him off.

I'd talk to Bella as soon as I think of what to say and how to rationalize it. She would not react too well to "Don't be jealous, I merely changed my appearance to be more attractive, found a witch younger and stronger than you, made her my student and gave her one of your old houses." But I would give her a clear, direct order: no killing, no attacking. Let her think whatever she wants. Besides, Elena damaged her magical abilities for who knows how long, so the Lord would be no longer interested in the "half-squib." Hopefully, it would buy me enough time to solve this problem.

I sat in my study with only nagging ache for company. Time to get to work...

A stack of letters with condolences. Nothing but vague hints, unclear who wrote to whom and regarding what. If this got intercepted by the law enforcement, they would all be off the hook.

" _Esteemed Sir, my deepest condolences for the situation that has befallen you_ " could mean anything from a funeral to losing an owl.

And then, the _Prophet_ extra edition.

" _ **The End of Cursed Manticore**_

 _...in a carefully planned operation personally led by Alastor Moody, the DMLE succeeded in eliminating the Death Eater known as the Cursed Manticore, who resisted arrest. The end of the criminal cabal is near! The grand victory over You-Know-Who's right hand..."_

And more of suchlike propaganda. Black, my right hand, eliminated. Elena, my right hand, eliminated. What am I, Shiva? How many right hands did they think I have?

Skeeter also wrote an article on the same subject. She may not serve us directly, but money persuaded her to make waves in the right direction.

" _ **Grand Failure of the Ministry**_

 _...while the Aurors search for their secret lairs, the Death Eaters confidently stroll around Diagon Alley and order drinks at the Leaky Cauldron without attacking anyone. Rather than set up surveillance to follow them to their bases, the DMLE initiated a groundless impromptu operation._

 _It began when five Aurors asked a woman to submit to a complete scan. In return, they received five spells that temporarily incapacitated them. No Aurors or civilians had been harmed in this initial altercation. The suspect merely wanted to leave. Clearly, even the Death Eaters realize that starting a fight in Diagon Alley is too reckless due to the high risk of stray spells hitting accidental victims. But the Aurors did not. After calling for backup, they cut off a portion of Diagon from all travel so thoroughly that several people were stuck in fireplaces._

 _And now, a qu_ _estion: what will happen if you pit famous Alastor Moody, five Hitwizards and 25 Aurors against one Death Eater? A quick victory for the DMLE? But the guardians of law and order once again managed to surprise us. First they gave a haphazard order to take off all defenses in an area of open hostilities. Then they failed to protect the public from area curses, accidentally hit multiple fleeing civilians with_ _Unforgiveables, and showed an overall inexcusably low level of combat preparedness. Namely, they lost twenty of their own! The enemy failed to break the ward and escape only due to the efforts of additional squads outside the ward dome who never engaged in the fight!_

 _Does it mean we must call Albus Dumbledore to confront every Dark wizard? Is Alastor Moody's fame exaggerated?_

 _A number of civilians were killed and many were taken St. Mungo's in critical condition. The emergency responders faced unexpected difficulties evacuating the victims after the battle. It is a national disgrace that..."_

Outstanding. I liked it.

I picked up a freshly published, Ministry-approved book with Edward's notes on the margins. The author argued that necromancy was a fabrication. Next they would say the Unforgiveables did not exist, either...

All right, leafing through all that lifted my spirits a little, time to get started on the paperwork...

Financial reports, expenditure reports on prisoners, artifacts, potions, wands... Results of the first operation using the newly turned werewolves: no survivors among the werewolves, but they made quite a mess. I had to make an outline for tomorrow's meeting, including the latest events and news... For instance, I had two reports on the Weasleys' home inspection: from Malfoy and Rookwood. Well, Malfoy's was undestandable, they had some kind of blood feud... While in the old days they would try killing each other, the modern humanist times called for dirty tricks. But what did Rookwood have to do with anything?

The Weasleys received an unannounced inspection. They initially refused to let the committee in, Molly Weasley threatened to sic a pet ghoul on them. Then the Order arrived. Everyone had enough sense not to start a fight and confirmed everything with the superiors. A pity...

The search yielded nothing Dark. The most dangerous thing they had was a horde of garden gnomes. But the committee searched thoroughly and found something very interesting: a functional flying motorcycle and a disassembled, half-charmed flying Ford Anglia. Next to that, a couple of charmed muggles trinkets looked insignificant. Considering that Arthur Weasley's job was to prevent and control this very thing... He was fined and issued an official reprimand. If it weren't for Albus's intercession, Weasley would have been fired. Now he will have another inspection in two months.

But all that was trivial... The legendary idiot brought home a flying motorcycle! Judging from the photo, the very same one I rode with Black! He was lucky the committee confiscated it without figuring out what it was. But we would enlighten them. Who could have guessed, Weasley played a devout Orderer and secretly had a personal item of You-Know-Who's right hand! I'd think of a good way to plant its description.

So, my servants' comments. Malfoy was outraged with the new depths of the blood traitor's disgrace, thought that this individual was unworthy to be called a wizard and should have his wand broken, then be sent to live with muggles he loved so much... Nothing relevant.

Rookwood managed to find copies of the official reports with descriptions of the found items. He was very interested in the Weasleys' clock that had their family members' names in place of hands, their house ghoul and the mirror that gave fashion advice. He was asking to somehow procure them for research. Rookwood, Rookwood... The clock was curious, but if we had the same one for the Death Eaters, it would probably show "mortal peril" all the time. The mirror was likely ordinary save for its vocabulary - rude mirrors usually got broken. And the ghoul was worthless. For such an intelligent wizard, Rookwood missed the most important discovery: the flying motorcycle and the half-done flying car...

Magic and technology... The ludicrous ban on charming muggle items... There were so many possibilities: dummies with firearms, flying tanks, helicopters with self-replenishing fuel and missiles... Or a charmed spacecraft with unlimited autonomy and expanded space inside... I should figure out what exactly Weasley and Black did. If the charms were self-sustaining... If they took it apart and charmed separate details... It would open up a tremendous opportunity: muggles create golems, and we animate them... I needed to talk to Black about his motorcycle and the Marauder's Map. Who could have thought a disowned Auror would prove so useful?

Compared to that, all other news were predictable. The day flew by. I summoned Barty Jr., enquired about his progress and warned that he will soon become an orphan. I also ordered him to go to the small ritual chamber number three and draw a mind modification circle for a person I would soon bring.

Lily has been practicing with her new wand for three weeks. They did not match each other at all. I regularly checked her progress from her memories.

At the first lesson, it took her six tries to cast Stupefy. Snape thought the wand did not work and tried to use it himself. In his hands it worked impeccably, only second to his own. He returned it to Lily. She squeezed out Light magic (lesser healing and undead repelling charms) after thirteen tries, Expelliarmus after seven. But the targets received a minor rotting curse on her first try. Then Lily realized it was Dark magic and refused to continue. Snape asked her to conjure a Patronus. It used to be a doe. With the werewolf heart wand, she only produced silver haze. With the mandrake wand, she shot out a torrent of maggots that attacked Snape and burned in his shields.

From then on, all their training sessions proceeded in the same fashion. Lily cast one thing, something completely different appeared- for example, a spit of acid instead of Lumos. Snape practiced surviving it. Amazingly, none of the botched spells was dangerous to Lily, even fire burned everything except her. She must not be altogether hopeless for her wand, then. She begged me to replace it, but I was adamant.

My initial strategy used Lily as a figurehead for diverting attention and bait for Snape. It could have been easily done with the Imperius, hundreds of different love or subjugation potions... But Snape showed very un-Slytherin scrupulousness in this matter. I didn't insist. What if cruel treatment of the boy's mother activated that accursed prophecy? Nonsense? The entire magical world was nonsense. And in my opinion, prophecies were far more likely than splitting the soul. Therefore, Lily's freedom of will was in no danger. And I already had other ideas for her...

Today, my plan was simple. A disillusioned house elf sprayed the potion I gave him, and Lily went to bed early. Then she received additional sleeping charms, a sip of polyjuice with a random man's hair and a quality anti-scanning charm. Crouch Jr. was already waiting on me.

In the ritual hall number three, I told Barty to cast privacy wards and took out Lily's body.

"Barty, because I value your ability to keep secrets, I chose you to assist me with an experiment you must never share with anyone. This man needs to be put under weak, slow but cumulative compulsions. The goal is loyalty to the ideals of Albus Dumbledore and Gryffindor."

"My Lord, could you please repeat that? I thought I heard..."

"Loyalty to the ideals of Albus Dumbledore and Gryffindor. You heard right. I value your initiative, but this is a magical experiment. You must do exactly as I say and keep quiet about it."

"How do I apply them, my Lord? Apart from occlumency, my abilities in mental magic are below average."

"Don't delve into his thoughts and don't take off the anti-scanning charms. Apply messily, he must be able to discover and remove them himself."

Not good enough to pass for the work of the great Albus Dumbledore... A different signature? He disguised his own, that devious bastard. Weak compulsions? I have been grinding them down for two months! Why did I not say something? What would be the point?

Crouch cast charms on the body sprawled in the ritual circle. A mediocre job. I praised him, said I knew he was the best choice, and sent him home elated.

My turn. I pulled out my wand and started breaking Crouch's compulsions and muddying up the author signature. I was in terrible shape and could not spare much energy. But now, Snape's superficial scans would show that someone powerful placed compulsions of loyalty to Albus in Lily's mind, then less powerful manipulations from the Dark Lord broke them in multiple tries- I cast and rested, cast and rested... Since I was temporarily weaker than Crouch, I might as well take advantage of it. Who was stronger than Voldemort? Albus. Who benefitted from these compulsions? Albus. Sure, everything could be revealed by a complete scan... But I'd either not let it happen or perform it myself.

The house elf took Lily back home. Tomorrow would be a very special day for her. Who could have thought Albus fell so low?

And I better rest too.

New day, new problems. Having activated my defensive charms, I went to Lily.

"We have a Death Eater meeting today. I will be giving a speech on the glory of purebloods. You must attend. Stay quiet. If anyone asks you any questions, say "I can't deal with this right now." The Death Eaters demand you participate in raids. To avoid it, I created a legend: you accidentally poisoned yourself with experimental potions, so you will be out of commission for a while, with Snape healing you. I will set everything up for it to be convincing. Here is your werewolf heart wand. Put on your uniform and cast Protego Maxima till magical exhaustion - this is necessary for the poisoning story. Today, no speeches other than what I dictate and no spells other than defending from a direct attack."

An hour and a half later she was empty. I covered her with anti-scanning charms, the universal shield and a high quality system of illusions around her head. She would now see and hear only what I want. At the moment, this pushed the edge of my abilities. Time to go... Through Lily's mark, I announced the meeting at the Lestranges'.

We walked into the same chamber. My "loyal servants" were awaiting... Everything matched the last time. But now I was much more prepared, and they would receive "special assignments." Too bad I had to do everything with the yew wand... It wasn't time yet. Some day everyone would see the Lord can do Light magic as well as Dark. Yes, Albus was getting older, and I was only getting stronger.

The entrance of "miraculously resurrected" Elena caused some glances and whispers. Poor Rosier was especially miserable: he arrived on a floating chair and still looked rough. His left arm was back in place but did not yet function, and the burn on his right would probably never fade. And instead of an opportunity to "personally express his condolences," he saw the girl looking better than him: she came on her own two legs, all limbs present, not a single scar...

Scanning charms again flew at Elena but read nothing except for the fact of very recent magical exhaustion...Snape was demonstrating a perfectly dispassionate face. Good job.

And now, my speech.

"My loyal followers, I am pleased to welcome you! This year, the true witches and wizards achieved many successes, and our victory draws near!"

This was where the discrepancies began. I activated the sphere of illusions on Lily. From this moment, she would see her own version of the meeting.

"Blood purity," I said in Lily's illusion, "is the very essence within us that grants us power. The cult of blood purity is first and foremost the cult of the self and thus is the only true doctrine. Dark magic flawlessly reflects the indifferent and amoral Universe we live in. Dark magic is eternal and immutable. It manifests in an endless variety of ways..."

No one should see through the charade - none of the others would try to get under Lily's defenses, and without magical sight she had no way of knowing she was under illusions. Not when I included a picture with corresponding lip movements and approving comments from the Death Eaters. Allowing another to cast spells on you was never a good idea...

I prepared a very different program for everyone else.

"As you can see, the newspapers were wrong. Elena survived the carnage at Diagon, though at the price of severe potion intoxication. We will speak about it in more details at the end of our meeting.

On to the most important matter. The Ministerial elections are fast approaching, and Barty Crouch Sr. must not live to see them. We have been unable to organize a search of his house - he did not shy away from using his authority to thwart it. But now we have a probable cause: he facilitated Elena's escape. Thanks to Barty Crouch Jr., his home is full of illegal drawings and will soon hold "victims of Dark Magic."

The plan is as follows: the committee arrives when they learn that Elena is alive and escaped with Crouch's help. There they find Dark manuscripts and ritual victims. They are immediately attacked by the house elves who are following Barty Jr's orders. The committee members defends themselves, which triggers the manor's defenses that protect all property, including the elves. Then the guards and the DMLE members join the fray. Barty, you send your father a Patronus message that your manor is under attack by the Death Eaters. He arrives with backup, ready to attack. If they suddenly gain enough sense to stop the fight, we portkey in several giants. However, the plan still needs to be fleshed out, which we will do together."

"My Lord, it is going to be a grand all versus all battle. Dumbledore and the Order will come. When will I know the full plan of attack?" Dolohov asked.

"Very soon, Antonin. Yes, it will be an all versus all fight. But without us. Dumbledore will be on the committee and is going to personally subdue Crouch Sr. And while he is busy containing the source-powered defenses, we will retake Crouch Sr. from the Order."

So incredibly simple. Snape would give Dumbledore vital information that Elena is alive. Albus would use his authority to push for a search of Crouch's manor and by doing so personally lay us a path to victory. It would be a far-reaching operation, especially if we manage to capture Crouch alive and correctly set up his wife's death...

I already knew how to further develop this...

"Lucius, I reviewed the plans for whitewashing our organization that you developed on my orders. Not bad: "the phrase _Death Eaters_ is morally obsolete and triggers consistently negative associations in the minds of British magical citizens," while " _Knights of Walpurgis_ is too complex. Mugglification has gone so far that some wizards no longer know what the Walpurgis Night even is. You proposed new options: _British Freedom, Our Choice_ and more. I especially liked _the Shining Path._ Good job. But this is not enough. We are going to keep our old name. Because what is the antithesis of life? Death. Our motto is " _the last enemy that shall be destroyed is death._ " We, the Death Eaters, are saviors, Light wizards, healers, keepers of peace and so on. We eat death, we eat evil. The snake on the Mark is a symbol of medicine."

If there ever was a competition for the greatest substitution of notions, I would be the expert judge.

"But sometimes we are forced to defend ourselves. Merlin made wizards great. Avada Kedavra made wizards equal. We stand for equality and against the Ministry's despotism. Of course, a certain kind of equality: equal rights to use magic and follow traditions."

"My Lord... I don't see how we can prove that..." Edward interjected.

"Very simply! We fight the terrible Order of Death, "black mages" who want to murder everyone. Barty Crouch Sr. is one of its Magisters. There will soon be abundant evidence that he is a Dark wizard. He does not support Voldemort- he killed too many of my people. But he has hurt multiple innocents! His exposure and saving the unjustly imprisoned innocents will be our next move against the Order of Death!"

One of the innocents would be Morfin Gaunt. I think he'd happy to name me his heir before death. There were ways to accept a half-blood into the family. And if he didn't agree, I always had my trusty Cruciatus. Why did I need that? It would be better to officially be Marvolo Gaunt, purely for political PR reasons.

"Frankly, killing Albus and his idiots is too simple, practically Gryffindor-like. It would bestow them too much honor. Anyone can kill. We must make it so even mudbloods spit at the sound of their names. We must turn them not into martyrs but into disgraces," yes, this was exactly why we were delaying our act. To defeat them prettily.

Excellent, I got their attention. Plus, it would make crushing any future opposition so much easier: no heroes to emulate, no resistance.

"For those of you who haven't figured it out: the leader of the Order of Death, more commonly known as the Order of the Phoenix, is Albus Dumbledore. There will soon be sufficient proof. Who could have thought that he butchered his entire family for Dark rituals? His brother lost his mind and now serves Albus under Imperius. In his youth, Albus was friends and probably lovers with Grindelwald, another Magister of the Order of Death. They had a partnership: Albus seizes power quietly, Gellert- demonstratively. Now in lieu of Gellert he has Crouch Sr. I am perfectly aware that right now not even Skeeter can make this into a story. We must improve on it. So, when Gellert realized his defeat was imminent, he transferred leadership to Albus. By the way, theft and attacks on muggles are punished by Azkaban; a single Avada earns life of feeding Dementors. But Gellert Grindelwald sits in prison without Dementors! After everything he's done! Unprecedented mercy! I am sure he doesn't even have a cell and lives in a luxury hotel with concubines!"

In truth, Albus probably did not trust Dementors... I must continue and make sure no one falls asleep...

"But something can be done right now. Here are the initial angles we will promote. First. No one has ever heard anything about Albus's children, wife or lover. Look at how he dresses! He is obviously a deranged pervert, and he spends all his time in a school full of children! This should tarnish his reputation. No need to test the students for obliviations, love potions or sexual contact. On the contrary, the pureblood Board of Governors must be firmly against all such tests and defend Albus! It is going to be suspicious, and you will eventually confess you acted under threats. But spreading rumors at pubs is another matter... Someone says he didn't send his son to Hogwarts because of disturbing rumors about a bearded old man in a colorful dress... It will be enough. No staged rapes! Only hints, so the DMLE has no reason to intervene. The sponsored press will blow the stories up at the right time, but we must begin working now.

Second. The hubris of this wizard knows no bounds! Everyone calls me the Dark Lord, but I sit on an ordinary chair. He sits on a golden throne, elevated above everyone every time he eats at Hogwarts! Moreover, look at his names. "Albus" is most likely a variation of "Alba," the ancient name of Scotland. Is this a claim to rule over Scotland? Also, the Latin word Albus means "white," the color traditionally associated with divine power.

"Percival." A legendary knight of King Arthur's Round Table, connected to the story of the Holy Grail. Perhaps this is his private way of mocking everyone while hiding his true Dark identity behind a noble facade.

"Wulfric" is an Anglo-Saxon name that could represent England. Wulfric literally means "wolf's might" and resembles another famous name, Beowulf, which means "might of bear-wolf." The legendary hero Beowulf defeated the monster Grendel in his youth. its name resembles the name of Gellert Grindelwald, whom Dumbledore defeated in his early years. Dumbledore's life appears to directly parallel this story, so everything else could not be a coincidence, either. It also suggests Albus has no pure motives in his helping Lupin. It is more likely because he is Wolf-rich. Maybe he was himself a werewolf, found a cure and refuses to share it.

Brian is the name of the legendary Irish king Brian Boru who defeated the Vikings at the Battle of Clontarf. Dumbledore himself is a veteran of more than one magical war against the Dark. What if he also covers for his secret allies? What if he gives the enemy a safe passage to survive?

Third. We have Ollivander. He compiled a list of all the owners of his wands. Burke did the same. With the aid of Cruciatus, Jimmy Kindell also shared his. We now have data from all the primary wandmakers in England. I know everything about Dumbledore's first wand: rowan and phoenix feather, made by Garrick Ollivander's father. Ollivander says no Dark wizard can possess a rowan wand. I remember that wand from my school days. The wand Albus uses now looks nothing like it. Moreover, I showed the memories of his current wand to our prisoner. Ollivander cannot determine the core without holding it, but he is absolutely certain the wood is from an elder tree."

Everyone gaped at me. Actually, elder was not an uncommon wood, approximately one in 50 Ollivander's wands was made from it.

"Therefore, I propose we spread rumors that the Rowan wand stopped obeying Albus because he became a Dark wizard. And that his current wand is the legendary Deathstick. I am sure it will motivate many to try killing him. Power-hungry fools, Aurors and victims of terror who think they can find a better use for the Elder Wand."

"My Lord, are you sure it is _the_ Elder Wand?" Amycus Carrow asked greedily.

"I don't care," I said as indifferently as I could. "I am a powerful wizard without it. We need to spread rumors that Albus is nothing, that all his power comes from the wand and from the fact that he attached himself to Hogwarts like a leech."

"My Lord, I know the rituals, a weakling cannot become Headmaster... And all the student archives confirm he was the best..." Selwyn began.

"I know. This is the story for "others." Let the old man drown in problems. Of course, we must do everything intelligently. We can't have Goyle waltz up to him during a Wizengamot session and ask "Do you really have the Deathstick?" But if a muggleborn makes a wrong turn at Diagon and overhears wizards rant about the jumped-up nobody Headmaster who is useless without his Elder Wand, it will be just what we need."

"My Lord, but what if he really does have the legendary Elder Wand?" Amycus did not relent.

Who cares?! He can have ten elder wands! I plan on poisoning him anyway!

Poison... Gryphon blood and stinking hellebore, veratrum and cerberus saliva, nightshade and blood of a drowned man, yew shavings and crushed human skull, hemlock and nundu hair, cyanide and dementor's bile, lady's glove and crushed dragon tooth, aconite and werewolf's eye, extracts of several poisonous mushrooms with black rooster feathers, great burnet and kelpie hair, blooming lily and basilisk venom... Tom always wanted to brew this but had no occasion to spend a year at it. This poison should kill even Albus. The only problem was delivery...

Weeks of studying Bathilda's memories yielded a lot of worthwhile information. Gellert wanted to build a better world. And to gain power, he planned to climb on the shoulders of the titans... He searched for the Hallows. The old woman did not believe in them and considered it an exotic hobby. But if Gellert succeeded and then was defeated by Albus... Albus had the Elder Wand. I _really_ did not want to fight him. But siccing the entire world on him was appealing... And if it turned out not to be the Elder Wand? He hid it and was using a copy.

I will find a use for the wand... Take it apart and craft myself a new one, weaker but more loyal. Or try to sacrifice it. Or implant it into my body. Or into the Slytherin altar. I'll think of something.

"Albus will die. I do not need the wand," I answered.

None of its owners became immortal or even lived long enough to die of old age. I was not going to use it. At least not in its original from. Why would I want the strongest but also the most traitorous wand? It would be stupider than marrying the most beautiful prostitute- unlike death, syphilis was treatable. Although, perhaps gathering all three will make them work better...

"So, my loyal servants. We, the Death Eaters, fight the Order of Death. The insane black mage Albus Evil Heart uses the Elder Wand to murder everyone who learns his horrible secret or could be a potential rival. Namely, all purebloods. He is the one behind all the "outbreaks of dragonpox." And he robs them blind- he is trying to claim the Potters' money as we speak! But we, the Death Eaters, will put an end to this outrage."

I laughed like an ordinary human. Tom laughed like a madman. Laughing may cause you to miss something potentially dangerous, but this room was as safe as it got, and Lily's illusions worked flawlessly. I could laugh. To hold up the image...

The meeting room got filled with Voldemort's laughter. Cold. Metallic. And not at all merry.

"Our next order of business will be whitewashing our organization at the international level. The problem lies in the fact that we, as Dark wizards, need material, but material usually does not want to be sacrificed. The solution is obvious: we will be very benevolent. Within our own borders. We will not kill British magical citizens without weighty reasons. Or at least try our best. Start with Imperio instead of Avada Kedavra. Mudbloods are disgusting creatures, no better than house elves. But we enjoy the labor of house elves, so why should we reject mudblood slaves? Of course, dealing with them is demeaning, so we are going to control them through intrigue and loyal half-bloods."

That should sound sufficiently arrogant. And the fact the genocide was canceled still hasn't sunk in.

"We will pacify the foreign Ministries, make treaties of mutual non-aggression, agree on borders. And we will honor them. We are going to do everything we can to avoid damaging our relationships with nearby countries. We will have our fun in Africa and get material from there. We also need to present ourselves in the right light before youth. Beauxbatons and Durmstrang are close and rank within the world top ten schools. Karkaroff, I have an assignment for you. You must become the headmaster of Durmstrang. The organization will help you. Their current headmaster has a positive view of Dark magic and is neutral toward us. I am sure that a large sum of money will convince him to retire and name you as his replacement. You have connections in Durmstrang, correct?"

"Yes, my Lord," Karkaroff answered, bewildered.

Karkaroff... He would not make a good teacher. He was the epitome of politeness towards his superiors and favorites, but as soon as anyone else asked for the smallest thing, he trampled them into the mud. The main issue was ensuring he worked well without showing his true face. But if he did not want Crucios, he will find a way to be kind an polite to everyone and excel at his job...

"I do not expect results tomorrow. But you must begin now. Lucius, help with the money. Edward, as I recall you know the Durmstrang blood master. Ask him what their headmaster loves - paintings, wine, women, men? Sebastian, I understand you are in bad shape, but drop a line to your chimerologist friend in Durmstrang. If it comes to election, Karkaroff must get the majority of votes. It is hard to overestimate the usefulness of a school that taught the Dark Arts from the first year. But we will not change anything in their ways- neutrality towards us will be enough. For a start."

If having a Death Eater as Headmaster made absolutely no difference... British newspapers must be all lies...

"With Beauxbatons, everything is more complicated. We have no agents of influence and occasionally conduct business in France. Nonetheless, there is a solution. The school recently appointed a new headmistress, Madam Maxime. She is a half-giant but tries to hide it."

That prompted some spitting at the floor and disgust on the faces of those with very active imaginations.

"But we are not going to tell anyone. Even without blackmail. We will merely share with her how giants are treated in England. Poor Rubeus Hagrid... He was expelled, his wand snapped all because his acromantula allegedly killed a girl. But we will prove that she was not killed by an acromantula, and it was so obvious that Albus could not have missed it. Hagrid was framed as a convenient scapegoat. Abus kept him as a groundskeeper despite having the means to prove his innocence. While in France giants are respected members of society and headmistresses of Beauxbatons, ours are marginalized drunks with broken wands who mysteriously disappear. Additionally, France has a large community of veelas who are legally equal to humans. We must remind them that in England veelas have no rights in the eyes of the law."

I looked around the table. Hopefully, my plans were sufficiently cunning for a Dark Lord.

"We will draft a new legislation under which everyone other than humans is trash. Evict centaurs from their lands, banish merepeople to beyond continental waters, goblins are our house elves, werewolves are imprisoned sources of ingredients, veelas are sex slaves."

I saw unhidden surprise. Everyone knew waging war on everyone at once was insane. Only two people did not react with rejection: Bellatrix and Lily. Bellatrix would agree to anything I said, and Lily was listening about "blood purity as Salazar commanded" and trying not to fall asleep.

"My Lord, I dare say this is not feasible. At least not within the foreseeable future. It will never even make it to a vote," Edward warned me.

"I know. Which is why we will not be the ones writing it. We already found the pefect person: Dolores Umbridge. This legislative proposal will be found among the possessions of this dead member of the Order of Death. And we will come forward and say that we killed this scum pro bono, as a gesture of good will to stop the law oppressing non-human magicals. I think this will calm the French down, and veelas and the rest will become a little more loyal."

"My Lord, I see two problems. First, no one would believe this law was proposed by the Order of the Phoenix. Second, no one would believe that Umbridge, famous for her racist remarks, is a member of the Order..." Edward began again.

Oh, what would I do without you... But don't worry, I'm saner than I appear.

"The proof of her membership in the Order will be incontrovertible. Do we all know how Dumbledore keeps contact with the Orderers?"

"Phoenix feathers," Rodolphus answered.

"Exactly. Any expertise will prove that the feather found in Umbridge's pocket is an authentic Fawke's feather."

Yes. Because it will be authentic. I happen to have two - I could not make those wands work for me, anyway. Thus, the holly one will be taken apart, and its core will have the honor of serving as the beginning of Albus's fall. And if Albus suddenly said that his familiar's feather was in the Dark Lord's wand... It will cause another grand scandal. Because I will demonstrate that wand whole and intact...

"My Lord, you truly have access to feathers of Dumbledore's familiar?" Macnair asked.

"Yes."

I was slowly growing in my servants' eyes.. Global politics discussion was over, time to move on to more local matters.

"We need potions and artifacts. Selwyn and Burke, I am satisfied with you, but stay behind after the meeting. I want to discuss something."

I kept pondering the Marauder's Map. It felt like I was missing something. Maybe the artificers could explain how it was created?

"But we do need to improve the potion supply. The local potions masters all agreed to work with us, though they charge exuberant prices."

Thankfully it did not apply to Snape.

"However, one potions master declined all our offers. Horace Slughorn. Why has he still not been captured?"

"My Lord, he is hiding very well. We traced him in the muggle world, but those were all apartments he abandoned weeks prior.." Mulciber reported.

Cue the Death Eaters' outburst about another disgraceful muggle-lover.

"Perhaps you could guide us to him, Master?" Mulciber asked.

Now, this was bad, despite the outward politeness. The meaning: you gave us an impossible task, so do it yourself or prove it is possible before punishing for failure.

Disregarding the itching in my head from the illusion sphere and my overall lousy feeling, I decided to punish the troublemaker. Mulciber got struck with wandless nonverbal Cruciatus. To be honest, I doubted it hurt him more than it did me: the Unforgiveables were much easier than a full-fledged battle spell, but not so much wandlessly. And in my condition, its difficulty rivaled a powerful curse...

How fortunate that I was sitting down and could close my eyes, as if savoring Mulciber's scream. With this on top maintaining Lily's illusion, my energy was rapidly depleting... I stopped the curse after a few moments.

"Must I, Lord Voldemort, do everything? Should I search for ritual victims myself too? Do not disappoint me again, Mulciber. If you are unable to locate Slughorn, then I will find someone else who will. For example, Elena. I believe that even in her current condition, she will manage to perform a quality search ritual and find him."

Everything sounded logical. A flare of anger (good thing he didn't hit back or he would have won...) and an assignment for my student. If she succeeded, great. If not, I would punish her slightly, to make sure she does not die. The only downside was that I would have to do the work myself, again...

"Malfoy and Rookwood. You are now working together on a new project. You must import anything and everything that could be of use from the muggle world. The new economy of the magical world will benefit from receiving everything non-magical from muggles, then redistributing it amongst ourselves. For example, food and building materials for our mudbloods. Also, raw materials for golem building. Yes, nothing legendary could be built from that, but we still use basic disposable golems. At the same time, the prospects will attract everyone with a scientific mindset into our ranks. But be inconspicuous- we don't need a million tons of steel all at once."

It was a good plan. Rookwood would decide what we need, and Malfoy would acquire it. Lucius was capable of managing the economy all on his own. Hurray to honest deals under Imperius, love potions and legilimency. But if a muggle was very valuable, we could heal cancer, bring back estranged spouses, regrow limbs lost in war... And not to forget the most important:

"The law forbids charming muggle items. But I think it would be amusing if muggle things came alive with magic and killed their owners. Rookwood, search for people dissatisfied with this law at the Department of Mysteries, people who would be interested in developing a charmed tank. Or a battleship. I'm certain muggles will have fun. But take care not to break the Statute."

In the seventeenth century, wizards showed what could be achieved with charming a single sailing ship. That was how the Flying Dutchman came to be. The magical world was stagnant, but we will achieve a lot by standing on the shoulders of muggles... And not only on the peaceful front...

I did not plan on animating technology for my own amusement. After seizing power, I will need an army. Purely for self-defense. Wizards were great but too few in number... An army of undead? It eroded the morale and would turn the rest of the world against me. And they were vulnerable to Light magic, could attack the owner if he lost control...

This way, it would just be a novel type of transfiguration and golem-building. The Statute? Yes, I knew all about it... Muggles must think that magic does not exist, so no flying tanks. On the other hand, flying saucers... Let muggles believe in aliens- we could modify the design of some of their inventions, widen the functionality with magic... Of course, this won't result in a giant unstoppable army. But in a few years they should put something decent together, establish new branches of magical science, sway Ravenclaws to my side... I had no plans to wage war on everyone.

"I am dissatisfied with the size and combat potential of my army. We, Slytherins, should not fight dragons. We should sic dragons on Gryffindors. When a dragon is dead, we task Hufflepuffs with butchering it and Racenclaws with creating items from its organs and skin. Slytherins will take the posts of leaders, government officials, diplomats. Gryffindors will make up the front lines of dangerous battles. Ravenclaws will craft spells and golems. And Hufflepuffs will feed everyone."

My words met silence. The unspoken question was obvious: how do you force such different people to work together?

"Slytherins are already mine. We will lure Ravenclaws with new research prospects, lack of restrictions, freely available materials from the muggle world and so on. The other two are more complicated, but nothing is unsolvable. Gryffindor will fight evil. Free of charge. And we will create evil to keep them busy. The evil is not us, it is Albus Dumbledore Evil (or Black?) Heart with his Order of Death. And Hufflepuffs... Once we cease attacking everyone after our victory, they will understand we are the "good guys" who were "slandered." Furthermore, we already killed many political opponents. I propose not to take their properties."

Silence again. What, leave the Prewett lands alone just like that?

"Non-neutral sources are difficult to subdue, even if the family is extinct. The ritual has around 80 percent mortality rate. Waiting decades for a source to turn neutral is too long. To get around this problem, we will seek out "gifted muggleborns," make them our vassals and have them do it. If they survive, we will secure servants who are better than house elves. If they don't, good riddance. It is time to stop playing games. Mudbloods must be found long before they turn eleven, then taught at least the basics of our world. Their attempts to "enlighten" us would be amusing if they were not so stupid. Just yesterday, Edward showed me a book by a Hufflepuff mudblood. The idiot argues that creating a magic-wielding corpse is nonsense and a fabrication! Though it remains unclear how these fabrications successfully fought in every magical war. I realize that the twentieth century conflicts reaped the lives of many knowledgeable wizards, but at this rate they will soon declare Reducto powerful legendary magic!"

Yes, this was my strategy of integrating muggleborns into the magical world. Or more precisely, the "Death Eater perspective" side of it. Get them early, teach everything necessary to make them a better version of house elves, and put them to use... The plan was still on the drawing board...

But no one will give up money based on reasonable words alone. Greed... I needed to offer a first-rate bait.

"You are all aware that I am more than human," Riddle loved repeating "more than human." In my opinion, he was less: a piece of soul in a mutilated body. Everything else was nothing more than magical parasites in antiques, not even mentioning the risk of permanently destroying his soul. "But you are not. It is time for me to take care of my followers. We need the Philosopher's Stone."

Once again, stunned silence. Even from Bellatrix. Lily did not care: she was listening about "the only proper path" and seeing listless faces of other Death Eaters.

Nobody wanted to go against 600 year old Flamel. He could have spent centuries drinking wine and watching operas, but if he practiced even an hour per day... And personally knew some ancient wizards... He must be a titan. If he was not the strongest, he was certainly the most skilled.

"For a start, we will nicely ask to buy it, with more than mere money. Try to make a deal, ask him to teach, shower him with gifts.." if I only knew how to contact him... How did Albus meet him? "Or try to make the Stone ourselves. I suspect that he worked with Albus due to Albus's research of dragon blood. We must repeat the experiments with all 12 uses he discovered, then search for ways to use and crystallize human and magical creature blood. Rosier and Macnair, you will do that, respectively. Keep me updated. If nothing works, I will crush Flamel."

A couple of Dumbledore's dragon blood uses were promising... But we could also search for four uses of nundu blood, seven uses of thestral bile... We already had the methodology and access to the material... It was unlikely to result in the Philosopher's Stone, but we would no doubt discover something interesting.

Now no one would want to usurp my throne: I either deliver them the elixir of life and money or die like a fool. I was going to soberly assess my strengths and not try anything risky. Stealing the Stone was plan B, I wanted to make my own.

It appeared logical: Magic was blood, blood was life, the problem of preserving it was crystallization... I should question vampires about blood... Unicorn blood was another fascinating subject. An unbreakable curse... Would it affect a vampire?

Unicorns highly concerned me. In magical sight, they looked like sacks of Light and life magic. I should find a way to use it, without experimenting on myself... Perhaps a long chain of Imperios where the last one kills the unicorn?

Their most intriguing feature was that adult unicorns preferred women to approach them. Especially virgins. And to a lesser extent, virgin males. I did not give a damn about virginity, but... how did they determine it? They were not deceived by polyjuice, not even by possessing a new homunculus body. Apparently, I found a second candidate for my soul detector position. I was very curious about how they would react to me. Technically, in this life, I had yet to have sex - matters of life and death came first. Did Riddle's or my own previous life count? I'll need to check...

Next questions on my agenda were dicey ones: how to increase the number of my servants and how to divide trophies after the victory. With our longevity, increasing the birth rate will have a significant effect in only a couple generations. Unfortunately, even in magical nature everything was balanced and interconnected: longer life spans and fragile inherited magic meant more reproductive problems. In my opinion, weakening the bloodline was preferable to its extinction. And I needed more servants. Hence, muggleborns will come in handy. But my current servants would not understand this reasoning... Except, maybe, Crouch would run to do my will at brothels or rob a sperm bank... And Bellatrix would see it as an elaborate punishment. I had another plan.

"Your faithful service will not be forgotten. You will receive rewards commensurate with your efforts. But part of the material benefits will be distributed based on the number of your family members loyal to me."

Soon we would have a boom of births and charity initiated by so-called terrorists. What could possibly be a better proof that "evil purebloods" was nothing but slander?

I saw some winks. Lucius looked crestfallen - how was he supposed to father children with his one-child family curse? He should have asked me. I won't be deterred by the International Convention of 1736 that forbade raising homunculi for sacrifice...

The only detail that worried me was financing it all. Riddle's memories advised ordering the servants to pitch in for the righteous cause - Malfoy will be no poorer. I disagreed. They would rather suffer Crucios than loss of money. Then, the first steps will be financed by drug profits. Given the muggle population, even a one or two percent rate of addicts will yield us a substantial amount of muggle money to buy items valuable in the magical world, which we will then sell under the guise of international trade. And the inspectors will be either get a cut or be directly controlled.

Besides, there were some very wealthy muggles... Most would gladly exchange a part of their capital for an extra ten years of life. The Statute of Secrecy? We are not wizards. We are God's messenger angels. Or demons. Or aliens. How would they stop ghost messengers? Or me coming to them in a dream?

"We must also not forget about current operations. Our next target is Amelia Bones. I already killed her father, mother, brother and his family. The only surviving Bones' are Amelia and her baby niece. She refuses to understand hints and made her choice clear. We will kill her as soon as we find a way to corner her alone. Do not attack without my direct authorization."

I had no idea what to do with the little half-blood girl, Susan. Give her to someone to raise?

"I also do not understand why we have not found any traces of Augusta Longbottom."

"My Lord, it seems she went crazy. Never comes out of the manor and constantly orders ritual supplies. All her purchases point to various methods of searching by blood," Burke answered.

"Blood searches are illegal. Turn her in to the DMLE. And complain to the DMLE about actions of any vigilantes, including the Order of the Phoenix."

They will either kill each other or provide us with proof of "criminal use of office or position" and "selective enforcement of law." It should carry some weight with foreigners and international courts. But her searching by blood was bad news. Did she believe Neville was alive? The manor was warded... We must kill her soon, before she blabbed to Albus... She will be easier to reach in prison.

"Lucius, you have been dragging on the acromantula problem prohibitively long. I hope you finally found where to move them?" - I regretted being unable to break into his mind.

"Yes, my Lord. How do you plan to control them?"

"Through their oldest male and the creature they could not deny."

"You have a basilisk, milord? They will be terrified and scatter."

"No, not a basilisk."

They would respect zombie-Hagrid.

"Macnair, you have a new assignment. Do what you will, but I need a live and healthy phoenix. Studying a specimen will help me understand how to kill Albus's familiar or block its apparition."

Or develop a poison that could not be cured with phoenix tears.

At long last, the mandatory part was over. Time for recreational activities.

"This concludes our official business for today. Bring in the guilty."

Next up: the Dark Lord's justice.

A recently marked Death Eater. Charge: petty theft and ripping off his colleagues when dividing the spoils. He got off easy, with a couple of verbal Crucios and an order to pay everything back.

Next, a teacher of Muggle Studies from one of small English magical schools, whose diploma was too embarrassing to show to anyone. He knelt and stared at the floor. What was even the point of teaching mudbloods about muggles? His sentence was obviously death, but my condition made the killing curse too costly. I used a wandless fire-making spell. And grossly miscalculated. Normally, the target would have immediately burned to ashes. But today my magic was all but a shallow puddle in place of the usual ocean, so the target burned like a live torch, spinning and screaming... What is he ran at me? I hit his legs with an air whip, but instead of cutting off the legs it gave him two open fractures. The target fell and continued howling. The Death Eaters' laughter flooded the room. Bella sounded especially joyful, like a little girl who got a new toy... The screams soon died down. Lily only stifled a yawn and continued gazing at me, imitating devotion - the illusion was working perfectly.

Well, I knew I was in bad shape, but this was ridiculous. Luckily, my performance was attributed to deft control and sadism... I called in the next guest.

A Death Eater squad ran into some Aurors. This Death Eater surrendered without a fight. However, his squadmates fought off the enemy and managed to escape along with the coward. Logically, he must be either killed or subjected to long torture. But I already tired myself out... and had a much better idea.

"State your name, blood status and family status," I told him.

"David Hume. Pureblood. Married. One son, Slytherin fifth year."

I did not remember that name from the list of purebloods... Where were all these new purebloods coming from? Falsified documents? Or son of two mudbloods thought he was now a "first generation pureblood"?

"Bella, cruciate him," I ordered.

The target screamed, thrashed and fell unconscious. Shouldn't Hogwarts be out for Christmas right now?

"I devised a worthy punishment for him. He and his wife will become our hostages. His son will receive the Mark and an order to kill Albus Dumbledore. Bring him to me, he should be on winter holidays right now."

And Snape will get a perfect smokescreen. Talking to house elves? Just making sure this dimwit doesn't poison the other students. Searching the entire castle? Who knows where and what Hume Jr. is brewing and when it would go off...

It was time to wrap up. With a monumental effort, I entered Elena's mind.

" _Lily, be ready to repeat everything I tell you word for word_."

I would not last in her mind for long. It felt like walking against strong wind... Damn weakness...

"And now, after we have discussed the main points, let us remember the events of the day before yesterday. Elena was hunting Moody with live bait, but the paranoid old man came with backup. There was a fight. She took down 20 Aurors and escaped," - listen carefully, servants. My student killed four squads of trained Aurors by herself. If she is this strong, what does it say about me?

"She succeeded thanks to potions and now needs time to heal. I personally stabilized her, but I am busy with other matters, so Severus will be ensuring her recovery. Elena, what potions did you take?"

"I drank the following: Felix Felicis, Delayed Pain, Delayed Rebound, Universal Antidote, Temporary Antidote, Foreign Sacrifice, Great Acceleration, Flesh Transmutation, Divine Reflexes, Pestilent Blood, Owl, Sacrificial Tears, the Draught of Omnipotence (unfortunately it didn't grant omnipotence, only improved some magical abilities), the Elixir of Life, the Draught of Magic Resistance, Dragon's Breath, Mopsus's Solution, the Fire Resistance potion, the Guardian Elixir, the Wit-Sharpening potion, Raffard the Black's potion, and several experimental ones," she repeated after me.

"Are you certain you drank Raffard the Black's potion together with the potion of Pestilent Blood?" Nott asked.

Good question. Raffard the Black's potion combined with Pestilent Blood resulted in an explosion from the inside. That was why I did not drink it.

"A combination of my experimental solutions prevented the explosion," Lily answered.

"Severus, you have an important task. Sort out Elena's potions and brew a cure. If she dies, you die. If she loses her magic, so will you. You have a month. If she is not healthy in time, you will be tortured for as long as her recovery is postponed."

This was an excellent solution. It would explain why Snape is spending time with Elena and why Elena is not participating in operations. I might as well accelerate her education and double her training times with Snape. And lengthen the healing process. Snape's torture will be me working on his vows...

"I will now explain to Snape the details of her treatment. You are going to flesh out the plan of Crouch's inspection that will end in a battle. And send someone to fetch Hume's son," I gave out the remaining orders.

"Severus, Elena, follow me," I said, getting up.

" _My Lord, are Death Eater meetings always this boring?_ " Lily asked.

" _Yes_ ," I said, severing the connection and dispelling the illusion sphere as we walked out of the room.


	23. The True Face of Albus Dumbledore

The three of us walked downstairs. Now to explain my actions to Snape and begin "curing" Lily. The behavioral correction should not have done much to her in a single night, and the revelation boded to be splendid.

We arrived to the ritual chamber number two. Casting privacy charms again caused a distinct feeling of having nails hammered into my body. I better force Snape to do the rest.

"Severus, check Elena for foreign charms. I need your opinion."

I could not read his thoughts, but his head must be swarming with doubts. How much truth did the Lord's words hold? Let's find out.

I removed Lily's defenses, and Snape vigorously waved his wand with diagnostic charms. Upon seeing magical exhaustion, he began to frown. But for all he knew, Lily trained by herself. Upon detecting compulsions, he locked eyes with me. The implied question was clear: he had specifically asked me not apply any charms to his woman's mind.

"Check thoroughly. What is your conclusion?"

"My Lord, when I checked her last time, this wasn't here."

"It was. You were suffering from magical exhaustion and post-Cruciatus effects... No surprise you missed it. It took even me some time to notice. Now I am nearly done breaking it."

"What are you talking about?" Lily asked.

"You are under foreign charms. Charms that were not cast by me and are not protective. They distort your perception and value system," I said. Except, they had no chance to take effect in less than a day.

"You put me under... Imperius?"

Snape watched the surreal scene of a mudblood accusing the Dark Lord and prepared to cover her from a Crucio with his own body. But I was not like that. Time for both of you to change your view of the world.

"And what have you discovered, Severus?" I enquired, ignoring her.

"Mental compulsions, my Lord. I cannot determine their original strength, but now it is about average. There are multiple traces of recent attempts to break them. I cannot determine the author: the signature was smudged expertly. But it is definitely not yours. I have worked with you and am very familiar with your magic."

"It's all his fault!" Lily glared at me.

Snape tensed up even more and was visibly restraining himself from jumping between us.

"I hope you thank me when you regain your rational mind. Right now you are a puppet of someone's will. You have been subjected to the Web of Deceit, a curse banned in the 17th century because of its complexity and irreversibility," I shared the "truth." I was not researching obscure illegal spells for nothing. "I almost fully removed it. You must do the last part yourself. We are going to help you. Severus will put you into a trance and I will watch over you while you find the foreign influence and remove it."

"Who could have done this to me unnoticed?"

"The magical signature has been smudged. But the goal image is "loyalty to Albus Dumbledore and Gryffindor ideals."

"It's not true!"

"Then prove it. Go into your mind and don't find anything. Or find compulsions of loyalty to me."

"Albus would never do anything like that!"

"Are you saying he did not fraternize with Grindelwald?" I challenged.

"Only back when Grindelwald was not yet a criminal." Lily's tone of voice was uncompromising.

"Then Albus was truly friends with Grindelwald, my Lord?" asked Snape.

"Bathilda probably mixed everything up, she's over a hundred years old!" said Lily.

"Lily, it is a common trap. Someone spreads rumors, makes note of who believes in them, and informs their superiors. Next, the best case scenario leaves you Obliviated," I explained.

"You spoke to Bathilda Bagshot?" asked Snape.

"Yes, a long time ago," she said.

I had seen it in Bathilda's memories. And confirmed it with legilimency on Lily.

"It is extremely unwise to speak to someone who spreads rumors about people who hold your life in their hands. You were lucky you did not doubt Albus's faultlessness, else you would have not survived long enough to meet me. Although, considering your compulsions, I am surprised you didn't attack people," I told her.

"You either deliberately distort the facts or are mistaken! Let's go to Bathilda and find out the truth, I just brewed a large vat of Veritaserum yesterday!"

I wasn't sure what to think... Her stubborn disbelief was bad but temporary. On the other hand, her desire to force feed an old woman Veritaserum despite the Ministry's ban was commendable. Unfortunately, Bathilda had been replaced with an Elder Spirit of Sorrow. Veritaserum would have no effect, and the Spirit was no professional actor- it couldn't imitate the correct symptoms like glassy eyes.

Fight it? Lily would never defeat it. And Snape was first and foremost a potioneer. He'd grow into a strong soldier in a decade or two, but at the moment he stood no chance against "Bathilda." My own condition could pose a problem, but since I summoned the Spirit myself, it was in my power to banish it at will.

Wandlessly, I wrote in floating letters visible in magical sight: " _This is what I must endure. You sure you need her?_ "

Snape frantically nodded behind Lily's back.

"Here is what we are going do. First, you remove the supposedly non-existent compulsions. Then we all go to Bathilda."

Curious, what would she see in her subconscious? It was a type of forced hallucination, where the images implanted by the author fight the images of the victim's own mind.

Lily lay down in the runic circle. Snape began reciting the spells, wholly concentrating on Lily as any mistake would force him to start over. I silently cast an illusion and a soundproofing charm over the room corner directly behind him.

"Tony! Gaby!" I called.

The house elves popped in and stared at me with devotion. I never abused them, and legilimency showed they were happy to serve such a powerful master... Maybe I should create a house elf branch of the Death Eaters?

"Can you dig with magic? I need several cubic meters of dirt dug up very quickly and unnoticeably."

"Yes, Master!"

"Never tell anyone about this. This is an order. Now, here is what you must do..."

* * *

 **Lily Potter**

Recently, Lily's life had taken a dramatic turn. Her husband was murdered. She never saw his body, but the insane laughter she heard left no room for doubt. She braced for the worst and begged from pure despair, to save Harry any way she could. To her astoundment, the Lord spared her and Harry in exchange for her service...

And now she was a Death Eater. She didn't know how to reply to her son's "Dada?" Serving James's murderer, what could be more unbelievable?

Her imagination painted horrible pictures: Crucios for breakfast, lunch and dinner. But serving the Dark Lord turned out not so much horrible, disgusting or dangerous as mind-numbingly drab. Yes, she had a new name, wand and appearance. But she spent most of her time brewing potions from the school curriculum...

You-Know-Who... He was completely different from the way everyone described him. Of course, he still deserved the kiss. But Lily saw no wanton aggression or arrogance. Why walk around under illusions? To instill even more fear and disgust?

First of all, he explicitly said he cared nothing for blood purity. And she was seeing more and more proof of it: he killed pureblood James, spared her, treated half-blood Snape well.

Second, he wanted to teach her. The Order of the Phoenix had her hide behind James's back. Here, she was getting an education despite her diligent boycotts to not, god forbid, learn any Dark magic.

Third, the Death Eater organization itself... Everything she heard about them aside from smugness and thirst for power was a lie. She saw no murders or torture...

Their ideology was by far the most shocking revelation. Lily always thought blood purity a groundless prejudice... Then she watched the Lord's duel with Rosier in the pensieve. Spells simply bounced off Rosier, he somehow injured the Lord by sacrificing his own arm, his black Manticore put up a worthy fight, and he wandlessly created a huge explosion while under Cruciatus! Undoubtedly, that was some sort of highly illegal Dark magic. It was mind-blowing. If anyone asked her three months ago who was capable of that, she would have said only Albus and You-Know-Who. But it turned out England had at least twenty such people. She was especially surprised to find her classmate Snape among them...

The first Death Eater meeting... She really didn't want to cruciate Snape, but it slipped... Disgusting traitor.

At least training with Snape brought some breaks to her dull routine. Lily was delighted to see her Stupefy easily breach Snape's Protego the very first time she faced him. She had only an Exceeds Expectations in Defense, but a barrage of her simple spells forced her opponent back. The sheer power of her attacks awed and overwhelmed him. But only for a moment.

The young potions master's momentary stumble gave way to cold focus. Her brightly glowing, overflowing with energy spells were swallowed by his shields. A furious cascade of fast hits got deflected with a couple of careless wand jerks. The best she had met a monolithic mountain. Snape sped up, she slowed down. The last thing Lily remembered before falling unconscious was many multicolored flares.

Next attempt. Everything appeared to be going well, but as soon as Snape cast some black haze around himself, all school spells became useless. Was fighting dummies the best she could ever achieve?

For the first time in her life, Lily felt suffocating disgust with herself rising from somewhere deep within her soul. Powerless... Weak... She failed again...

It was then when Lily understood the true reason behind Dark magic bans. Yes, she became much stronger lately, but it changed nothing. It was as if she received a truckload of bullets for her single-shot gun, while Snape had half a truck with an automatic rifle... Her training made a stark contrast with the time she brought down the French ward with a single spell. But blood magic was illegal... Lily's only consolation was that sometimes her new wand shot out things that sent chills down Snape's spine all on its own.

Today's meeting beat even Professor Binns's lectures in its sleep-inducing effect. Two hours of talk about blood purity and Salazar's commandments... Lily struggled to keep her eyes open, but a blatant breach of discipline would have led to nothing good.

And now she received a new assignment: search for something within her own mind.

Lily lay down in a runic circle and closed her eyes. When she opened them, she found herself somewhere else. The garden by their house in Godric's Hollow... She had been happy here... Until a monster came, killed her husband and enslaved her. Lily often regretted offering him "anything". Maybe she should have chosen death? She couldn't leave her son... What future awaited him now?

Lily decided to sit here a bit, then go back and say she did not find anything. She leaned on a tree to relax but immediately felt sick.

"Lily, follow your orders! Look for compulsions or the vow will kill you!" Snape disembodied voice rang through the garden.

Fuck. She couldn't get away from the prick even here... Who could have guessed that her childhood friend would grow up to become You-Know-Who's devout follower? Good thing that if her new wand continued to act out, she'd be rid of him soon. And maybe... Maybe her wand would accidentally kill the Dark Lord too?

"I'm going, I'm going," said Lily and headed towards the house. Where else to look?

This house appeared the exact copy of the real one. But Harry and James were missing... James... He had no chance to defend himself, no chance to say goodbye... Lily only heard his murderer's insane laughter...

She walked around the house and found nothing. What now?

"Snape! What do I do now?" Lily asked the empty air. She probably should have taken up Snape's offer to teach her occlumency back at Hogwarts...

"Search for something that doesn't belong," he answered.

Just great. Now she had to follow orders from another Dark wizard in her head.

Lily made another pass through the house. She saw the same lush trees out of the windows. The same crack split the hallway floor. It was almost like the house stilled with anticipation. The emptiness felt wrong. Lily took out her wand. Her old wand, willow and unicorn hair. It had been so long since she held it...

"Point Me!" she cast.

The wand led her up to the nursery... Harry's crib... Lily broke down crying and sat on the floor.

"Lily, get yourself together! It isn't easy for me to hold you here! Keep looking!" Snape chided her.

"Shut up!" Lily screamed into nothingness. "This is all your fault!"

And suddenly, she heard another voice.

"Yes, this is all because of Dark magic. Dark magic is evil. It mutilates the soul. Everything is Voldemort's fault."

It made sense. Lily looked around but did not see anyone. The voice was coming from the nursery mirror. She approached it. The mirror stood at its proper spot but looked wrong: much larger, in a gold frame with a strange engraving. How did she not notice it before?

Instead of her own reflection, she saw Albus Dumbledore.

"Professor Dumbledore, help! I am a prisoner of You-Know-Who! I couldn't get in touch with you!" Lily pleaded.

"Resist him, my girl," Albus answered from the mirror.

"But I can't do anything! I'm under vows! Harry would die!"

"I can help you. Give me you hand! Don't give up!"

"Lily!" Snape's voice screamed shrilly. "This is the compulsion! Break it, don't fall for it!"

"But I joined the Order on my own, willingly..." Lily began.

"That's right, my girl. Everyone contributes to the good fight," Albus praised her.

Whom to trust? Hogwarts Headmaster and defeater of Grindelwald or a mass murderer? Maybe this was her chance?

Lily held out her hand and touched the mirror. The surface turned into a thin film, and Albus pulled her through to the other side. She landed in Hogwarts. majestic as she remembered. But she instantly felt sick and collapsed.

"Get sorted into Gryffindor. Would you like a lemon drop? Your sacrifice will be revered. Die for the greater good. The entire Order of the Phoenix will gather to bring flowers to your grave," Albus was now muttering.

"Lily, it's just an algorithm! Fight it!" Snape screamed. "My Lord! She is close to violating the vow!"

She lay on the floor of the Great Hall and stared at the stars on the charmed ceiling. She felt that she was dying...

Suddenly, an explosion made a hole in the ceiling, and through it fell someone in a Death Eater uniform. She saw Snape's face.

"Crucio! Avada Kedavra!" Snape attacked Albus.

Albus waved his wand, and levitated furniture shielded him from the Unforgiveables.

"Avada Kedavra! Crucio!" the Headmaster answered.

"None of this is real," Lily thought.

"It is not real, but you die here, you will die in reality," You-Know-Who's soft whisper sounded in her head. "Lily, this idiot rushed to save you, forgetting about maintaining the spell. Get up and fight, or your son will be left an orphan. I will have to find him an adoptive mother among the Death Eaters. I think Bellatrix will easily teach him cast the Cruciatus wandlessly by the time he is of age."

"No!" she rasped and pulled herself up. Pain and weakness disappeared. Amazingly, Snape and Albus fought at a standstill.

"Who are you?" she asked Albus. He just faded into thin air. Did she win?

"Lily, occlumency!" Snape screamed.

Lily felt pressure in her mind. Her hand rose on its own and tried to point the wand at her own head. Snape disappeared.

"Lily, Albus does not need a security detail," the Lord's voice continued. "Under a thin veneer of humanitarianism hides a truly mechanical organization. Understanding its true nature is punished by death. There is a battle going on in your head. The compulsions are forcing you to turn your wand on yourself. The past Lily, the blind marionette, is ready to kill herself. Show your true face, rebel against that desire."

"Fight it, Lily!" Snape's voice was again in her head.

And she fought. Fought for control over her body, for power over her own mind...

"My Lord, help her, she is not going to make it!" Snape pleaded.

"I already did everything I could. This compulsion can only be broken by the victim herself," he answered.

Lily's arm stopped and began slowly lowering. But her victory was fleeting. She got thrown into her most important memories.

Lily was playing with Petunia. Petunia was telling her how important is to have faith in Gryffindor, then turned into Albus and attacked her. Lily dodged, pulled out her wand and cast Protego. Little Snape ran out of the bushes, turned into his adult self and attacked Albus.

"She will do it on her own! Keep holding the spell!" You-Know-Who's voice snapped at Snape.

Lily saw herself on the first train ride to Hogwarts, Snape sitting beside her. James entered the compartment, turned into Albus and attacked. Snape cast an Avada at him, but the picture changed before it could reach him.

"This is not Albus, Lily." the Lord said. "You are fighting a part of yourself, this is a deadly illusion."

But she could not believe him. Albus was again approaching her, with a vial of poison in his hands. She darted to the side before he could throw it at her. The picture changed again.

"None of this is real, you are not at Hogwarts! Remember how you slipped through the mirror!" Snape screamed. Maybe she should trust him?

"This is not the real Hogwarts," Lily chanted to herself as Albus was walking towards her with a black half-sphere at the tip of his wand. Remembering her occlumency books, she imagined an endless ocean... Her vision rippled like a picture with static. Gathering together all her will, she charged at Albus and stabbed him in the eye with her wand. The wand entered his head and burst into flames. Albus's face began to melt like hot wax.

"Lily, leave! Now!" the Lord shouted.

She believed him. And punched the melting face reflected in the mirror. Smoldering pain blinded her, and she momentarily lost consciousness.

When she came to it, she found herself in her house at Godric's Hollow. Her entire body ached, and her hand was bleeding. The broken mirror lied in the corner.

"Good job, Lily. And now, just to be safe, destroy the shards." the Lord's voice said.

"I don't have a wand..."

"This is your mind. Take a new wand out of your pocket."

And Lily pulled out another wand, her new one. It was not in her pocket before, she was certain.

"Incendio!"

The remains of the mirror burned despite being made of glass and metal... Lily walked out to the garden. Behind her, her former home went up in flames.

"Excellent, Lily. Severus is going to pull you out now."

She felt like something else within her broke along with the mirror. Broke completely and irreversibly...

Lily woke up in the same circle of unknown runes. The Lord and Snape were standing nearby.

"Did you see everything I saw? There must be an explanation for it."

"We all know what the explanation is. Severus, cast defensive charms on her. We are heading to Bathilda. Let's all drink polyjuice," the Lord ordered.

Soon, they were at Godric's Hollow. The quiet village was covered in snow. The three figures approached it under attention-repelling charms, their tracks erased behind them. About a hundred meters from the house, the Lord stopped.

"I feel powerful defensive and concealment wards over the house. And there is a Dark creature inside," said You-Know-Who.

"I can't feel anything, my Lord," Snape replied. "Not even when casting with my wand."

"Be ready for an attack. And cover her."

"Bathilda is just a harmless old lady. She would not harm anyone," Lily soothed herself out loud.

"I doubt it..." the Lord muttered.

Snape knocked on the door and said they were American journalists who came to ask Bathilda about Albus's childhood.

Lily did not think any sane person would open her door to strangers at night... But the door opened.

"Welcome! Tea?" Bathilda smiled at them.

"Yes, thank you," Lily answered. Bathilda hasn't changed over the years, only was a bit more terse.

"Mrs. Bagshot, we are writing a book about Albus," said Snape, who looked like a tall aging muggle, "Please, tell us about his past."

But the old lady kept her eyes trained on the Lord, as if she was waiting for something.

"Don't bother, Albus will not hear you. I blocked your Call," he said.

Lily stared at the Lord. What call? Blocked how? He didn't cast anything. But most importantly, the Lord looked wary. And Snape even stepped between Bathilda and Lily, pointing his wand at the old lady. The situation was beyond ridiculous. What could a frail old woman do to the Dark Lord and a Dark wizard?

"Reveal your true face," the Lord ordered and waved his hand.

It was as if Bathilda exploded from the inside. Pieces of her body covered the room. And inside her was... a giant black splodge that shot out multiple tentacles at everyone in the room. Lily screamed.

Snape conjured some kind of semitransparent barrier and blades that burned the abomination. He spun in place, dodging black sparks and covering them both with conjured shields. He threw banishment spells at the creature- Lily recognized them from the Lord's fight against Rosier's manticore.

Lily's worst memories assaulted her mind all at once: the Lord's laughter when he killed James, the moment she made the vow, the times she cast the Cruciatus on Snape...

"Expecto Patronum!" Snape cast. The creature destroyed the doe that looked just like hers in two hits. Snape conjured another Patronus, but it met the same fate.

"Stupefy!" Lily tried to fight, but the spell flew right through the black creature. She tried to apparate, but apparition was blocked.

"My Lord, help, I won't hold it off for long! Save Lily!"

She turned her head. Still polyjuiced Lord stood in the corner, not doing anything. The creature did not attack him: the Lord was surrounded with some protective yellow and white glow. He never took out his wand. In his hands appeared a tiny ball of his blood and flew at the creature.

"Cease to be! Go back to whence you came!" You-Know-Who said.

The instant his glowing ball of blood touched the creature, it vanished... just vanished. Instantly.

"I have important matters to attend to. Notify me what you do and when- or I may not be able to save you next time. Severus, erase the magic traces. Then I will erase yours. Completely covering this up is impossible, but it will look like I was the only one here."

"What was that thing? Why could I not apparate? Where are the Aurors?" Lily asked, her heart still pounding.

"It was an Elder Spririt of Sorrow," the Lord said, casting something. "A powerful creature, much worse than a Dementor. The apparition was blocked and the magical field was expertly cut off. The Aurors will not come, but it is for the best. If they were here, they would attack us for Bathilda's brutal murder and try to kill us."

"My Lord, what was the spell you used to banish it?" Snape asked.

"You are not yet worthy of knowing it," the Lord replied.

They walked out of the house and went... to a graveyard?

"Why are we here?" Lily asked the Lord.

"You, for example, can put flowers on your grave," he mocked.

It was ok, she could ignore the jabs...

The white marble headstone softly glowed in the dark... Snape offered her conjured flowers, but she dispelled them.

 _James Potter. Lily Potter. Harry Potter. The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death._

Hatred flooded Lily.

"Who engraved the Death Eaters' motto here?!"

"Albus. He designed the headstone," Snape answered. "My Lord, what are we actually doing here?"

"Look at this grave, Severus," the Lord stood two rows from them.

" _Kendra Dumbledore. Ariana Dumbledore. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also,_ " Snape read the gravestone. "So what, my Lord? 1899 is too old, we could hardly raise them as liches..."

"How can you talk about that!" Lily reproached him.

"No, I am not interested in liches... I feel these two graves are empty as well... Severus, cast the standard magic-concealing and attention-repelling charms, then dig."

Horrified, Lily watched Snape open both graves: repeated patterns of wand gestures, and the dirt slowly moved to the side.

Of course, she already knew Snape was a Death Eater. A killer. A traitor. But a grave robber, too? Could he fall any lower? All he had left was torturing children. Although... didn't he get a teaching post?

One casket was unnaturally well-preserved but empty. Or rather, it contained no body. There was only an ordinary potion vial that Snape poked with his wand.

"My Lord, this is a standard potion vial with an additional preservation charm. It contains wizarding blood and probably body pieces... Nails or hair. But who would do this and why?"

"The answer is obvious, Severus. So that any search by blood or flesh shows Ariana's body is here," the Lord answered. "Thanks to our dear Ministry, blood magic is almost completely banned. But I know Albus is a master of it. His knowledge of magic, including Dark, is immense. Take it with you. We will need it soon."

With telekinesis, the Lord lifted the vial, placed it in some box and gave it to Snape. Snape opened the second casket. It was also empty. Or not... There was a folded note.

The Lord wandlessly pulled it into his hands and began to read it, cringing.

"What is it, my Lord?" Snape asked.

"Poor Regulus. He should have informed me, not go by himself..."

"What does Regulus have to do with it?" Snape looked baffled.

"I tasked him with digging into Dumbledore's past. The poor wretch found something big and decided to play a hero. Snape, it is too early for you to read this. If Dumbledore finds out, your death will be horrific. Elena, you are not contact with Dumbledore, so read and memorize it. Never share what you learned with anyone unless I specifically order you otherwise. This is an order. Snape, return everything to the original condition and erase your traces."

" _Memorize this,_ " now the Lord's voice sounded in her head. " _And under no circumstances ask anyone about the word "horcrux." This is an order."_

The note said:

 _"I know I will be dead long before you read this but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match you will be mortal once more._

 _R.A.B."_

" _What is this about?_ " Lily asked.

 _"It is safer for you to not know because Dumbledore stops at nothing to destroy evidence. He likes to stay behind the curtain. He is a master of appearing at the last moment and scooping up all the trophies."_

"We are going back to the Lestranges by a chain of apparitions," the Lord said out loud.

And Lily began to wonder...

* * *

Finally! This one-man show wore me out. Everything again had complications.

The plan was for Snape to put Lily into a trance, where she would see Albus's true face and easily defeat him. But instead... This indescribable moron refused to fight - she sided with the compulsion! Because the mental influence matched her life philosophy, it became unexpectedly strong... Snape could not overcome it from the outside. I could have, but not in this condition... She could have died there.

Fortunately, I was able to persuade her to act properly with kind words, and she defeated the compulsions. When Albus's face melted, she would have seen Crouch Jr. underneath, but I convinced her to get out and destroy all traces just in time... Interesting, inner world as a mirror... I think she will have a new boggart.

My house elves managed to fulfill my orders to steal the bodies and plant the "evidence" in time. Many Dark potions required human blood, hair, nails... Killing was not always necessary, so I sent a house elf to sleeping muggleborns and draw a little blood... The Lestranges had a stock now.

We were in the ritual chamber number one. I cast privacy charms, feeling like I just ran a marathon with a log on my shoulders. After merely throwing my blood with an illuminating charm at Bathilda...

"Elena, you are against Dark magic, correct?" I asked.

"Yes... My Lord."

"Then go home. Sit and think. And take some of Snape's potions to ameliorate the effects of your magical exhaustion. Meanwhile, we are going to check something."

When Lily walked out, I addressed Snape:

"Severus, perform the combined ritual of search by blood and flesh. Use the entire contents of the vial."

"My Lord, about your fight in Diagon... I could brew you a couple of helpful potions if you told me what you drank," Snape said, adding lines resembling a human skull to the ritual drawing.

"This body can not withstand my true power for very long. I need potions against pain and against body deterioration caused by potion intoxication. I drank everything Elena said at the meeting, except Raffard's."

Snape would take care of the pain relievers. Returning me the lost years of life... Unlikely. But it never hurt to try, right? Besides, Snape was my "future protege." I had to start showing him signs of trust.

The basics had already been drawn. Snape added the last runes, arranged the candles, and placed the vial in the center. Some wand waving, uttering the spell, a soft glow- and the vial was empty. The map revealed a circle about fifty kilometers in diameter. With Hogwarts in the center... It was a simple matter of choosing the blood of a muggleborm first year who stayed at Hogwarts for the holidays.

"Your opinion, Severus?"

"I am at a loss, my Lord. Albus's sister is long dead. But the ritual is showing that the rest of her body must be at Hogwarts. Dumbledore secretly re-buried his relatives? I made a mistake in the ritual? This is not her blood?"

"You could certainly arrive at the correct conclusion yourself, but we do not need to waste time and draw Albus's attention. All this once again confirmed the information I had. Ariana Dumbledore is alive, and she is at Hogwarts."

"My Lord, she would be close to a hundred years old. Where did Albus hide her all these years? And how did no one -students, professors, house elves- ever see her?"

"The answer is obvious. Magic always leaves traces, but what is the most difficult to detect?"

"An animagus? My Lord... It is very unlikely... The animal must have lived at Hogwarts for many decades. I know there is something very wrong with Filch's cat, but we are looking for something that's been alive since 1899."

"Well-reasoned. But I was not talking about an animagus. A familiar."

"The phoenix? Fawkes?! My Lord, turning into a magical creature is impossible. Moreover, how could Albus imitate the familiar bond?"

"No need to imitate anything. It is his familiar. And it is Ariana."

"My Lord, I don't know of any way to stuff a wizard into a magical creature..."

"I do. There is only one, and it is very Dark. Don't investigate it, else Albus will kill you like he did Regulus. I will share it with you in a year or two, when it is safe. For now, you are going to spend a month at the Lestranges' manor. When the winter break is over, Albus can find you a substitute or teach potions by himself. When you come back, you will tell him the Lord's student is alive and nearly healthy. Albus must personally initiate the search of Crouch's home. For now, stay inside and brew potions. You will not be participating in the assault, so you are not required to attend meetings."

"My Lord... Are you certain Albus conducted a Dark ritual using his sister and familiar?" Snape asked skeptically.

Yes, it was quite a leap from compulsions on a muggleborn Gryffindor for her own good to an unknown Dark ritual using own relatives...

"It's always the darkest under the candle's flame, Severus," I said, turning to head back to the meeting.

The Death Eaters were still discussing the operation at Crouch's manor. The memories Barty Jr. shared allowed us to reconstruct the building plans and guard posts. Dolohov and Jugson fiercely argued over the plan of attack but unanimously left neutralizing Dumbledore to me... Wonderful when you are so trusted...

"My Lord, if I may ask, how do you picture "equality" after the victory?" Yaxley suddenly veered off topic.

It was too early for anyone to be dissatisfied with my words.

"Formal "equality." For instance, all children may learn Dark magic if they have a permission from their parents who have a license to use it themselves. The licenses will be granted by, lets say, Edward Lestrange. Naturally, all of you will receive them for free. The mudbloods' parents cannot give them permission in principle. Their magical guardian will be the Hogwarts Headmaster- for example, Charles Nott. And he will deny them permission because they would kill themselves with dangerous spells. However, forbidding them from apparition or "Stupefy" is irrational. Servants must work, and to work they need magic."

The reality would not be so bad: I was going to give loyal muggleborns a chance to join me. You don't want to serve? Live an ordinary life, without powerful magic. Maybe your grandchildren would be more amiable. Everyone took a liking to this definition of equality. Excellent. This audience would always keep me on my toes...

Next, the Death Eaters put on their masks, and Hume's son was brought in. The boy looked on the verge of fainting from terror.

"Your father disappointed me. But you have a chance to set everything right. Your family's life, health and wealth are now completely in your hands. You will receive the Mark and a task. You must kill Albus Dumbledore."

The boy shuddered.

"Do not panic ahead of time. Poison him. Put someone under Imperius. Professor Snape serves me as well and may help you if he wishes. Ask politely and convince him. Additionally, you must find a way to bring an assault team into Hogwarts. You have until your graduation to finish both tasks. Keep me updated on your progress through Snape."

"I am not good with the Imperius and don't know any poison recipes, my Lord," the boy said, staring into the floor. Someone in the audience chortled.

"This is not my concern. For all I care, you can beat him to death with your bare fists," more laughter around the room. "But it is unlikely. So, practice. You are welcome to use our prisoners."

The boy got his Mark and was dragged out in a catatonic state. I had zero hopes for him. Even if we put every student in the castle under Imperius, they would not be able to kill the Headmaster. He will quickly discover the boy's intentions through legilimency or analyzing his actions. But so what? He already knew we want to kill him and Snape was a Death Eater. We were going to appeal to his pity. The boy had nowhere to go while we had his family.

The meeting gradually winded down. I dismissed everyone. Jugson, Dolohov and Edward gathered all their papers and moved to a different room to continue discussing the operation. They should churn out a decent plan within a week.

After the meeting, I sat in the study. Selwyn and Burke stood in front of my desk. They were capable wizards but in no way soldiers. One was an artificer, the other an artificer and a wand crafter.

"I am in need of your expertise. Is there an artifact that could grant us access to Hogwarts?" - I asked.

"No, my Lord," they said in unison.

"Hogwarts is extremely well-protected, milord," said Selwyn. "I only see two options: a direct assault or a betrayal from the inside."

Too bad. But I did not expect anything different. Moving on to the next topic.

"Is it possible to create an artifact to spy on people within Hogwarts from here?"

"No, my Lord," they said interrupting each other. "It is entirely possible that the Headmaster gets information about everyone's movements from the castle wards, but we cannot tap into them."

I agreed... But how to explain the Marauder's Map? The Headmaster helped craft it? Then why did he allow us to take it out of the castle?

I held out my hand and with a monumental effort summoned the table with the Map and the recording artifact.

"You claimed it was impossible. Examine this and make your conclusions," I said. "Take care not to damage it."

The artificers looked at the map. Their first guess was a cheap fake. No magic emission meant the charms were simple - the dots must move in random patterns. They waved their wands and recited spells, searching for the trick: a name-generating program and movement algorithms. Unable to find any, both lost their neutral faces.

"My Lord, this is not a fake? The dots correspond with reality? Even Dumbledore?" Selwyn asked with bewilderment.

"Yes. Severus checked," I said.

"My Lord, I have friends who could assist you in receiving a mastery in artifactorics. They understand the need for discretion and respect the secrets of the craft. But you will need to prove your authorship and act under an alias."

It made sense. I wanted to ask them how the map was made. Because they could not puzzle it out, they assumed I created it myself. But I had no need of the master artificer title... Although, I should think about it...

How did the "marauders" make it? They outdid true artificers without realizing it. None of them qualified for a mastery... except for this map.

"My Lord, may we take a look at the workshop where you created such exquisite charms?" Selwyn asked.

Right... Complex, high quality artifacts required instruments and preferably a warded room to filter out foreign magical energies. Where did Potter find all that at Hogwarts? Brought his father's instruments to school? And neither Peter nor Black saw them? How could Dumbledore not notice?

"No. This map is a secret. Put your heads together and think how we can break into Hogwarts using something similar, not reeking of ritualistic sacrifice. Also, help Rookwood study the charmed car and motorcycle. The committee was supposed to issue a conclusion listing all the charms applied to the items."

On to the next important matter.

"Do either of you have children at Hogwarts?" I asked.

"Mine are homeschooled, milord" Burke happily declared.

"My Lord... My son is a third year Slytherin... He is not yet worthy of serving you..." Selwyn said, fluttering with hope.

Yes, I already saw him on the map. But I had no need of another useless boy.

"Selwyn, do you keep an eye on your son while he is at school?"

"Yes, milord. The house elf watches him. My son has no history of any unseemly behavior," Selwyn reported.

"I am interested in the house elf. Does it enter Hogwarts?"

"My Lord... What use is a house elf? They can't bring anything into the castle or harm anyone. They would accomplish nothing but set off an alarm."

"You will call your house elf here and leave me alone to speak with it," I ordered.

"Nenilla!" called Selwyn, snapping his fingers.

Nothing happened- the manor had been recently warded against unauthorized house elves.

I sent a courier sphere to Rodolphus, who soon disabled the anti-house elf ward. I wore myself out too much to do it myself and was no masochist.

"Nenilla!" Selwyn repeated.

"What does Master wish?" said a tidy elf.

"Leave me with the elf," I told them.

I was alone with the trembling creature. Well, Hokey proved just how useful they can be when she helped Hufflepuff's cup gain a new owner.

"Hello, Nenilla. I am the Dark Lord, your master serves me. I have news for you. Are you a good elf and like serving your master?"

"Yes, Sir! Master is satisfied with my service!"

"House elves are happiest when they work, and I want it to continue. But there is a big problem. A horrible problem. Mudbloods. They want to free all house elves! They want to give all of you clothes!"

"Terrible! Nenilla doesn't want it!" the creature exclaimed.

"I am going to stop them," I promised.

"Sir is a good wizard!"

"...But I will need your help."

"Nenilla follows only the orders of Master and his relatives. Nenilla is sorry, Sir."

"I will speak to your master, and he will confirm everything. Tell me, do you meet other house elves when you watch your master's son at Hogwarts?"

"Yes, Sir. The first time I came, they stunned me and took me to their master Dumbledore. He told me to go back home. I said Master will cruciate me for failing, and then I must stick my ears in the meat grinder. He said he pitied me and let me stay if I don't hurt anyone or bring anything in or out or do anything bad."

"Keep chatting with other house elves in the castle, then. If anyone gives you trouble about it, say you are looking for a mate. Warn all other elves that the muggleborns want to give you clothes and force you to idly wander the streets or accept money for your work. Do not attack anyone or try to sabotage anything! Just keep in mind that this threat will not last forever. When worthy wizards like your master will come to Hogwarts, you can all work without fear."

They liked living as slaves? Let them. We will have the "anti-Spartacus revolt". Slavery to the slaves! Slaves fighting for their own subjugation... They were unlikely to be of much use, but at least this would keep them from getting under our feet.

The house elf stared at me with absolute awe, just like my Tony and Gaby. I should introduce them.

"Go. Your master will confirm everything I said."

The house elf disappeared, Selwyn and Burke walked back in.

"Selwyn, I have a task for your house elf. In short, spreading rumors. You must only confirm my order. Your son is in no danger. In the worst case scenario, you would lose a house elf."

Selwyn blossomed with relief. He had several house elves and could easily buy more.

"Your will shall be done, my Lord!"

"Burke, I read the notes on your wands that you gave me. You do not eschew Dark ingredients, but I need more. You must have trusted employees and distributors. They will go on a world tour. America, Africa, Japan... Buy a large variety of local wands and their ingredients, then study them."

I was satisfied with my wand, but what if there were better options? It would be best to buy them honestly - no need to start international quarrels over wands and uncertain prospects.

The artificers left to fulfill my orders, and Crouch walked in.

"My Lord, I have a feeling my family is suspecting me of something. I am having increasingly harder time disappearing to work on your orders," one of my best servants reported.

Bad news... But I had an idea.

"You need to "get busted," I said. "Let your parents think you are sleeping around."

"My Lord, I am no longer 14. Sex is not a reason to be this sneaky."

"What if they are not pureblood?"

"My Lord, I am sure my family would accept anyone I chose. Non-purebloods would be useful for political reasons."

Why couldn't his family be pureblood supremacists?

"What if you have orgies with muggle prostitutes? While your father is in the middle of a campaign? Of course you are sneaking around!" I voiced a genius idea.

"My Lord, how am I going to stage that?"

"Why stage? Pay them and let your parents catch you!"

"My Lord... but they... no magic... it is mudbloods who..." Barty stuttered.

"I trust that you can make that sacrifice. It is your Lord's will."

"Yes, Master," Barry said a bit sluggishly. "How many times must I get busted?"

Good question. I suddenly had another idea.

"Barty, I have an additional assignment for you. Ritualistics holds many secrets. Learn everything you can about sex-based rituals. Sort out the nonsense from what really works. Indians are known for their practices, so start there. England has a small Indian wizarding community... Also, ask Mulciber to tell you of his experiences. If anyone asks, you are following Albus's commandments: learning the power of love to become a great Light wizard. Come up with something," I finished my thought.

Dumbledore always talked about the power of love. What if love and sex were synonymous? Or at least somehow connected?

Barty stood stupefied. He had killed muggles. Tortured them. The Cruciatus, burning alive, everything... But now... Anyone else would probably ask me whether I was in my right mind. But if you think about it... I adapted sleep to serve my goals. Ate food that promoted mental clarity. It was only logical to extend this to sex and learn to combine business with pleasure. And what would be a loss of authority for me will not affect Crouch at all.

Crouch left. I went home and sat in my chair for another hour, trying to relax. I was sick of feeling weak...

But there was still work to be done. I called my house elves, gave them the coordinates of the Little Haggleton graveyard and ordered to bring me whatever was left of my father. The remains might prove useful as ingredients. They popped away, and I walked down to my basement.

Two bodies lay on the tables. Dumbledore's family. What else would I do with them, drag them to the Lestranges? The house elves had checked the bodies for curses with artifacts, and the Fidelius securely shielded from searches by blood and flesh. Did Albus really assume no one would dare to exume the bodies? Foolish.

So, Kendra Dumbledore. Very decayed since 1899. I analyzed the body with several staff-shaped artifacts I borrowed from the Lestranges. If their results were to be believed, Dumbledore's mother was killed by a Dark curse, something I could not recognize without further tests. Strange...

And Ariana Dumbledore... The official cause of death was an incorrectly cast spell. Her body was preserved with the Incorruption Charms: she looked alive, as if merely sleeping. Unfortunately, this did not make raising a lich any easier - I would have to gather the entire Inner Circle for the ritual. But I was more concerned with something else. The body had no wounds, no damage at all. Ariana was completely healthy, except for the fact that she was dead. And I knew exactly why: Avada Kedavra.

Apparently, vilifying Dumbledore would be much easier than I thought...


	24. The Dark Lord's Vacation

New day - new concerns. I had to find something occupy my time that did not involve powerful magic or performing before witnesses. A temporary house arrest, then.

Snape brewed me several potions. All my charms and artifacts declared them safe. While they did not return the lost years of life and any serious magic still threatened to send me to the grave, the pain was almost gone. Every day felt a little closer to normal than the last.

Maybe I should task Snape with developing magical drugs? Get the important people addicted... Or better, their children...

I checked and rechecked the bodies of Albus's relatives. They predictably did not come when I summoned their souls with the Resurrection Stone. I started to get a nagging suspicion that I was using it wrong. I briefly considered giving it to Bellatrix to test but was not yet that desperate.

Would Kendra and Ariana answer Albus's call? How much did he value them? I personally brought the bodies to Edward and forbade him from mentioning the new specimens to anyone. His job was to find the best way to use them, then bring in foreign experts who would issue independent opinions on the causes of death under secrecy vows. We will leak all of it when the time comes.

I left my father's body at my house. It would be best to also find my mother's, but where to start? Now, a number of shady wizards were diligently sifting through muggle records and checking old cemeteries.

I had to research the uses of ancestral bodies. So far, only Dark potions and targeted curses came to mind. There was also that "bone of a father" modification ritual... Well, the Lestranges can sweat over it and recommend who to use for the other two components. And while they are at it, set a trap at Little Haggleton cemetery. If someone tried to exhume my father's decoy body, they should get a surprise explosion and a delayed curse.

A few days after "breaking the compulsions," I stopped by Lily. She looked worse for wear - letting go of the old worldview was never an easy process. For once, she made me happy: wanted to train more often and asked for a list of spells I used against Rosier with notes on which of them were illegal and why. I indulged her, citing complexity, power and danger to the caster as reasons for the bans. And she could spar with Snape as much as she wanted.

She also asked for access to the Lestranges' library. I readily gave it to her and told the house elves to inform me of the books she was interested in. Unfortunately, instead of highly lethal spells or sacrificial rituals, she dug into the books on mental magic to check whether her adventure was real. Everything will check out. She will only find traces of behavior-modifying spells and confirm she was not hallucinating.

I showed her a page from the latest issue of __The Daily Prophet__ _._ In short: You-Know-Who broke into Bathilda's home and brutally murdered her.

"That's not what happened, my Lord! It was a monster!" - Lily was exasperated.

"This is typical. All unsolved crimes are pinned on the Death Eaters, the most brutal cases - on You-Know-Who or his right hand. Bad cherry harvest? Voldemort's fault. House burned down? Voldemort's fault. Whore daughter pregnant at 14? She was under Voldemort's Imperius. Lazy slob of a son expelled from Hogwarts after failing all his OWLs? Voldemort cursed him..."

I started training her in occlumency twice a week. She put up shields, I took them down. Doing it with a wand and verbally was no challenge even in my condition. Lily's mind was as boring as they got. What do I care about her friend Mary McDonald moving to the US? Or that the Potters had a cat, and she was now worried about it? Or that Dumbledore borrowed their invisibility cloak and haven't returned it for a while? Should I try accusing him of theft?

Some memories showed her wand finally becoming more obedient. Her inner conflict weakened as she no longer considered Albus flawless and me evil incarnate (I saved her more than once, and the subconscious was a stubborn thing). She continued avoiding Dark magic and did not burn with loyalty or gratitude but at least no longer accused me of lying.

But even her mind contained crumbs of worthwhile information. I watched the memories of her last Slug Club meetings. Lily was one of Slughorn's favorites, maybe he let something slip... I held no hopes of finding a memory of him saying "I bought a cozy flat on the muggle side of Tottenham Court Road." But it was worth checking for something to narrow down the search... A postal address to send him candied pineapples, his plans to visit someone...

Back at my house, I began reading Dumbledore's paper on the uses of dragon blood. The Lestranges just bought and delivered a fresh container. Let's get started with plagiarism and repeat his experiments. Understanding the enemy and knowing what to expect was crucial to defeating him... And it would be all the more amusing if his work served my goals.

 ** _ **The Twelve Uses of Dragon Blood by Albus Dumbledore.**_**

 ** **Use number one: a ruby amulet.****

I poured some blood into an appropriately charmed cup and cast a freezing charm on it. If Albus was to be believed, the solidified blood will form a stone ostensibly similar to a ruby... in about three months.

This amulet was supposed to "guide the soul to a great purpose, imbue it with decisiveness and bravery," and "warn of approaching threats by changing color." But what intrigued me the most was its "intolerance of duplicitous behavior." How did a stone determine this? Another soul detector? Would occlumency block it?

And best of all: "produces flashes of flame when used by anyone dishonorable or blackhearted."

At first glance, trying to use something meant for the "pure of heart" was the height of stupidity. Nonetheless, it might prove useful... In my hands, it should be a perpetual fire generator! All I had to do was find a way to channel it towards my enemies. And that was why I worked in a remote lab in Northern England instead of the Lestranges' manor.

I was creating two stones: one to adapt into a flamethrower, one to gift to Bella as a token of special attention in place of Hufflepuff's cup. She will appreciate something so beautiful and dangerous, keep it in a fireproof safe at her Gringotts vault... I should also get servants to fireproof this lab before the stones are completed and begin burning in my proximity.

Why was it possible to crystallize red dragon blood but not green, anyway? Thus far, the Death Eaters who received orders to crystallize magical creature blood only saw results with redcaps: a dull substance resembling dark bottle glass. Scans detected no special qualities. I wonder, what would happen to drinks aged in bottles made from this "glass"?

 ** **Use number two: medicinal.****

Processed dragon blood sped up the healing of external and internal wounds, stopped bleeding, had antibacterial, antiviral and other minor properties. Pity it was useless for potions overdose.

A knife cut on a prisoner, add the processed blood... It worked as advertised.

Since then, a number of captives got subjected to a novel torture: shallow cuts covered with blood of magical creatures in different stages of processing. We had yet to find any useful effects. Although, the blood of several creatures was poisonous or corrosive... A new torture method counted as progress. Rosier, Mulciber and the Carrows were ecstatic.

 ** **Use number three: combat applications.****

Coating items in dragon blood improved their quality. It could be used to make blades lighter, more durable, poisonous... and about fifty more options down the list. Sadly, most effects appeared at random.

But this was the 20th century... ammunition capable of penetrating magical shields... It was a project for the indeterminate future, but Rookwood already received an order to work on a machine gun with charmed bullets. When I tested bullets soaked in dragon blood, they reacted strangely with propellant gases- the gun did not fire. If Rookwood failed to solve this, he should at least build a crossbow.

In the meantime, we will make do with dragon blood tempered knives accelerated with telekinesis. I stuffed my pockets with newly treated blades. Too bad that apparition had limits on weight and distance proportional to power - not even I could apparate with the entire Death Eater arsenal or a dragon in my pocket.

My most incompetent loyalists got new jobs: dipping various items into the blood of magical creatures. No beneficial effects on weapons yet, but certain blood was excellent at dissolving steel. Or igniting it.

But if Albus were to be believed, dragon blood had another, much more pertinent combat application: "bathing in dragon blood grants warriors protection in battle. Non-charmed blades and weak spells bounce off their fortified skin."

I experimented on spare material. A muggle bathed in dragon blood withstood knives, sledgehammers and gunshots without a single mark left on his body. Stupefy and Impedimentia did nothing. Machine gun fire left bruises. Grenades and Reductos blew them apart just the same, only into fewer pieces.

It sounded promising. But first of all, I already had ways to defend from pests. Second, "if the the blood is not washed off, the soul becomes infected with exponentially increasing greed." A muggle from the control group lasted 17 hours, a wizard was gone in 35. Both lost their minds, muttering "everything is mine" with crossed eyes. What if I covered them with blood for an hour, washed it off and repeated 17 times? Would they still go insane?

And third. Albus wrote that it was best to use the blood of a dragon "killed in a fair fight." What did "fair" even mean? Challenge an overgrown lizard to a duel? Simply kill an adult dragon one-on-one without poisoning it beforehand?

I started thinking. How much stronger would the effect be? Killing a dragon was well within my power. Even one-on-one. With no risk whatsoever... Reference books said one dragon yielded 150-300 liters of blood. Realistically, the largest I could access was the Hungarian Horntail. Was it really time to sell tickets to "The Dark Lord vs. Horntail"? The phrase "fair fight" bothered me...

By the way, I should add plagiarism to the list of accusations against Albus. The Germans had a legend about a warrior who bathed in the blood of a dragon he defeated, _ _The Song of the Nibelungs.__

Albus's paper mentioned soaking armor in dragon blood to increase its resilience. The bathtub I used for soaking muggles would probably withstand an anti-tank shell. At least, my Reducto did nothing to it. Or maybe I was still too out of shape? I vividly remembered Hogwarts, filled with statues and suits of armor. If Albus treated even a part of them with dragon blood... He had a horde of golems resistant to anti-tank missiles... I suddenly lost all desire to storm the school. Snape should check them and hopefully prove me wrong.

But then, we could make our own golems and strengthen them with dragon blood. How many would blood from one dragon cover? Death Eater uniforms were already treated with it, and we could not afford to crash the market...

 ** **Use number four: energizing**** ** **drinks.****

Albus, you must not be playing with a full deck after all. Who thinks about war and drinks simultaneously?

"A drink prepared with dragon blood boosts vigor and vitality for the entire day. Despite the sensation similar to that of the Liquid Luck, it does not give the drinker powers over reality or the ability to see two steps ahead. The effects are purely energizing."

The holy grail of all night owls and students... Thirty-six recipes. For example: 1 cup milk, 2 tsp sugar, 1 tsp blood of Common Welsh Green, 1 tbsp lemon juice, cream to taste, cup of tea, mix everything and age two days in a cool dark place.

Insignificant, but it will do as a coffee replacement. The lack of special abilities was rather disappointing, but on the other hand there were also no side effects. And paying a small fortune for drinks was no object – it was not my money, after all.

 ** **Use number five: pigments.****

"Dragon blood is dried in the sun, powdered, and mixed with varnish in 1:40 proportion. The resulting bright red or green paint cannot be scraped off, dissolved, vanished or removed in any other way."

I painted objects and walls in the Lestranges' lab. The paint withstood the strongest acids. I tried using it to draw runes. The blood did not enhance them in any way, but its weather-proof quality was impressive.

On the off chance that someone got past the Fidelius, I decided to add defensive runes to my house. Nothing compared to a family source like the Lestranges had, but it would buy me some time to escape. The house elves begged to help. I ordered them to draw runes on the fence. A experiment on a skillet showed that runes drawn by house elves could not be charged by anyone. But let it serve as a psychological weapon: the Dark Lord's fence covered in uncharged chicken scratch runes... Anyone with magical sight was guaranteed a brain freeze.

The new 1982 year arrived quietly. I completed the runic patterns. Red and green runes all over the walls, ceiling and carpet looked macabre, but now the house itself will help me. I didn't waste five days on renovations for nothing!

Since I still had no energy to spare charging the runes, I invited Bellatrix. In awe of my display of trust, she charged everything in two days. I really wanted to invite her to bed, but it had to wait until her husband problem was resolved. He had some feelings towards her, and who knows if these wizards had ways to check for marital fidelity. Tom was never interested enough to find out. My knowledge in the subject began and ended with the spell I saw Snape cast on Lily. And risking of quarrel with the Lestranges outweighed the rewards.

My people tried creating paint from other creatures' blood, so far without success. The only notable case was salamander blood paint, which set a house ablaze when applied to the fireplace.

 ** **Use number six: toothpaste.****

"...Blood is separated into its basic components, distilled and dried. The resulting powder is mixed with ground mint and applied to teeth. This toothpaste heals small wounds, strengthens gums and teeth. Frequent use causes excessive tooth growth..."

At first glance, it was foolish and trivial. But politeness won wars. What could be better at shattering all presuppositions about a horrible Dark Lord than an affable, sparkling-white smile?

Experiments on muggles showed that even broken and removed teeth regenerate after one and a half weeks. We could bankrupt dentists if there were enough dragon blood for the entire population...

Attempts to turn other magical creatures' blood into powder produced a wide variety of results: seventeen types of emetic powder, endless allergen powders, two types of weak poisons... The experiments continued.

Fortunately, we were able to conduct them without increasing the British rate of casualties. Everyone was satisfied: sadists like the Carrows tortured productively, scientists like Rookwood eagerly researched. Fanatics like Rosier reveled in solving the muggle problem, softies like Nott consoled themselves that the muggles did not die for nothing.

 ** **Use number seven: cleaning agents.****

"Processed dragon blood is excellent at removing rust and tough stains. A stove cleaned with the powdered solution remained pristine for many years."

It worked. I overdid it the first time and was left without an oven- the cleaner corroded it like an acid burst. They should have written the dosage in larger letters. This led me to an obvious conclusion: it would dissolve skin just as well. When I informed Rosier that dragon blood cleaning powder can be used to slowly dissolve muggles, his joy knew no bounds.

Experiments with blood of other animals had cost us a lab: powder from erumpent blood exploded... Luckily, the only casualty was not even marked.

 ** **Use number eight: language learning.****

Dragon blood was the main ingredient in a serum that facilitated the learning of any human or magical creature language. To test it, I opted for Classic Maya. Lestrange had an entire 600-page book dedicated to the creation of a single extremely powerful runic trap, a book he maintained was impossible to translate accurately. I will see for myself in a month or two... Albus was not idiot to stumble into an obvious trap.

Furthermore, adding several drops of blood in each ear gave a temporary ability to understand the language of magical birds. This must be how Albus communicated with his familiar... It really worked: I listened to magical dodos, hoping to learn their unique type of apparition. But "imagine where you want to go, and if it is not too far, you are already there" was unworkable.

Dropping blood of other magical animals into muggles' eyes, ears and other orifices resulted in nothing except burns, poisoning and, in especially severe cases, death.

 ** **Use number nine: divination****

"A drop of dragon blood in each eye brings prophetic visions and dreams. However, the visions are unpredictable and uncontrollable. You will occasionally lose mundane sight and see future events of different levels of probability."

It sounded nice, on the surface. You would truly see the future. One possible scenario at a time. And you won't be able to control it or know the probability of it occurring... The blood showed a fragment of the tree of possibilities but gave no ability to distinguish the most probable branches that all true seers had. You could guess 10 out of 10 or zero out of a million. You could see the dead sun billions of years in the future or yourself breaking a cup in ten seconds. And none of it would necessarily happen.

Tom tried this during his divination studies. Useless, nothing more than a random dream generator. I did not need dragon blood to know that anything was possible.

A captive wizard proved my point when he started spouting nonsense about "cold threads of eternity." Let Mulciber think what to do with him.

I wonder, could dragon blood or other magical creature parts be used as hallucinogens? I should test it. But not on myself.

 ** **Use number ten: an alarm.****

"The dragon is a mighty, vigilant beast that defends its family and territory like no other. Accordingly, dragon blood spilled in the doorway while chanting a spell (see appendix 16), forewarns the owner of ill intent. Whenever an enemy is nearby, green or red blood will turn black. Anyone who walks through doorway wishing harm will suffer severe burns."

An enemy was very unlikely to reach my door unnoticed, if they used it at all. Moody would surely blast through the wall, and Albus would come by phoenix... Still, I painted my door and cast the corresponding charm. There was no spell for walls or window panes, and I did not know how to create one.

I also bought a sneakoscope and a foe-glass through the Lestranges. The sneakoscope glowed red and spun with a deafening howl even when set to minimum sensitivity. And the foe-glass showed a silhouette of a crowd. I tried to count them but lost track - probably the whole of magical England.

 ** **Use number eleven: love potions.****

Dragon blood is often used as an ingredient in love potions (96 recipes, see appendix 19). Some are extremely strong and maintain their effects for years. For two people already bound by true love, a dragon blood love potion will grant the ability to feel each other from a distance like mated dragons."

Wizards as a whole had an odd obsession with love potions... And barely regulated them...

What I liked the most was the effect of adding too much dragon blood: "the ensnared lover will torment you with incessant affection, and the bond between you will never let you escape." I wonder, would a couple hundred housewives lusting after Dubledore distract him? Or even better, lovesick men? One recipe only required the victim to see the target's image... Albus was in for fun times. He is going to be busy curing people of love potions instead of searching for Death Eaters.

 ** **Use number twelve: artifact destruction.****

"Dragon blood combined with sulfuric, hydrochloric, phosphoric and nitric acid in 5:4:3:2:2 proportion destroys most artifacts. The solution turns black on contact, then ignites and burns up the item."

Not likely to work on a horcrux... Could it remove protections from charmed walls? Breach the Hogwarts gates?

For now, my subordinates were dipping cheap artifacts into tubs of this solution. It appeared to be a dead end: the blood either did not work or dissolved the tub along with the items.

Well, Albus must either have an extraordinary range of skills or be completely and utterly mad. But his research will be useful. Especially the combat applications. It turned out that inferi, zombies and liches soaked in dragon blood became much more resilient... Everyone at the Crouch manor will get a surprise. And then, making the Death Eaters impervious to stunners... Sure, there were powerful Light stunning and binding charms, but they clearly lied beyond most people's abilities. Considering that the Order had a hang-up about Dark magic use, they will either have to move their moral goalposts or face serious problems...

How many undead and golems could we bring to Crouch's house? And other creatures... A giant covered with dragon blood! They were already nearly impervious to magic... unfortunately, a single one took over a hundred liters. Dementors were another regrettable example - they went up in flames on contact with dragon blood. And a werewolf's transformation canceled the effects. How to bathe a bloodthirsty wolf was unclear... Automatic showers? Transfigured monkeys with brushes under Imperius?

I gave clear orders not to experiment on goblins, merepeople, veelas, centaurs, vampires, werewolves or other intelligent magical creatures- we did not need any more organized resistance. This caused problems with reagents. Worthwhile magical creatures were rare. I saw how my servants dealt with this. Take, for example, a thestral. They trapped one, cut off all limbs and wings, destroyed its eyes and ears and restrained it. The resilient animal did not die but could not heal either, allowing then to safely draw blood once a day.

So how did Albus discover all these uses of dragon blood? And why specifically dragon? We wasted a ton of humans, ingredients and labor for very modest results... Albus could not afford our methods and must have done something different. Did he try it on himself? Then he was either he luckiest wizard in history or a high density ghost. I refused to believe he hid a dozen horcruxes somewhere. Did he truly calculate it theoretically? I wanted to know how!

I read several of Albus's biographies. None of them mentioned the spells he used against Grindelwald, but the information on his hobbies might prove useful. Chamber music and bowling. Why barge into Hogwarts when he regularly came out into the muggle world? We could blow him up in a bowling alley... Or curse the instruments with Siren's Aria...

The special poison was also underway. It will take a year to complete, giving me enough time to find the final ingredient- basilisk venom. I already had an idea for its delivery: Albus's muggle lemon drops. Now the Lestranges were monitoring muggle candy producers in England. I should get Snape or Hume to bring me some samples for analysis, in case Albus had a favorite supplier.

I continued my studies under Rabastan's cover. He hired new tutors in addition to the South America and European specialists in Light and healing magic.

A Japanese wizard with unpronounceable name who responded to Yanamoto was teaching me building and architecture. But 410 ways to build a pagoda and roof architecture were not the reason I hired him. On the other hand, the instant concrete hardening charm... I was certain I could tweak it to solidify ALL fluids in the human body. Or demolition charms for enemies who barricaded inside a building without magical defenses. Or a specialized telekinesis spells that moved only a single type of material with much less energy. So, Crouch's manor will fall. Right on top of its defenders... Also, a specific mistake in one fireproof charm made objects more flammable. And a botched termite-repelling charm made people more appealing to conjured flesh-eating bugs.

I decided to learn more about magical creatures. In this, Rabastan was assisted by a Russian named Petr Smolaninov. Tom's knowledge of creatures outside the school program was limited to how to avoid meeting them, how to escape, and how to kill them if escape was not an option. And, of course, what potions and rituals required their parts. Had the lessons not been theoretic, I would have embarrassed myself. Who could imagine that Avada Kedavra did not work on a Cerberus? The giant three headed dogs only went down from __three__ _ _simultaneous__ Avadas from __three__ _ _different__ wizards and could withstand Fiendfyre for some time! And something as simple as music or singing put it to sleep... Maybe I should plant a Cerberus somewhere? Or make clothes from its hide?

There was another reason I chose this particular magical creature expert: he once took part in a successful capture of a phoenix. He gladly shared the memories for extra payment. Our initial plan to repeatedly hit the phoenix with the killing curse until it ran out of accumulated rebirth energy needed drastic revisions...

Petr also identified the exact species of my Patronus from a drawing: horned serpent, nearly extinct save for the few surviving in North America, XXXXX-class, symbol of one of the Ilvermorny houses.

Before our relationship with Africa suffered too much damage, we were searching for a teacher from Uagadou. The African school was a goldmine. Its acclaim in self-transfiguration held many promises - from my metamorphism goals to hope for the werewolves. And I was very interested in their acceptance announcement through Dream Messengers. Dreams may not be used to kill... But people could be frightened to death, right? Or wake up with a grenade in hand... without the pin.

How to gather material from Africa without offending the largest wizarding school? I will only take muggles. Will not attack the school or even its home country. And won't touch the wizards. Not even the muggleborns' families.

My public image on the home front had its own share of problems. Tom always dragged Nagini around and spoke parseltongue to boast his Slytherin heritage. I had to find an impressive-looking snake and show everyone I was still a parselmouth. I did not enjoy theater, but authority must be maintained.

My options... Find another magical snake? Then how to explain what happened to the old one? The Lord could not keep his familiar in check? The only excuse would be replacing her with a better, more formidable snake.

A great deal of money could buy a runespoor. Three-headed African vipers that grew up to seven feet were very popular with Dark wizards. But first of all, it was cliche. Second, it inspired inconvenient associations with schizophrenia: even the Lord's snake is insane, fights itself and has no idea what it would do next. Third, rumors said that in some specimens the middle head was a seer. I loathed prophecies. And did not believe in them. " _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies."_ Utter nonsense. What if it was about me, a foreign soul? I was not born in July, but the prophecy did not specify the starting counting point. And who knew what "thrice defied" meant? And anyway, the Dark Lord was Dumbledore. I'll be Marvolo the White! So let's stay far away from seers, even if they are runespoors.

The best candidate was a basilisk. But the Indians refused to share or sell theirs. Poach, rob, steal? If only I knew where to look... Plus, the Indians were a tad obsessed with magical snakes and would probably consider theft of a basilisk a public desecration of their national symbol. And I did not know how to retrieve the one from Salazar's Chamber.

So, I had another plan: bringing a horned serpent from North America. A vanished wild snake would not cause a scandal. It drowned. Or swam away. You should have kept a better eye on your animals.

A beast the size of a basilisk will surely impress everyone. And it had some magical properties to boot... Once I recovered, I should be able to take it without a fight- no snake resisted the orders of a parselmouth of my power and mental abilities. Though, why take it by force? Maybe one of them would like the idea of traveling the world and repopulating Europe with its descendants...

As far as I understood, these creatures were able to survive on land but became dangerously cranky without spending at least half a day in the water. The Lestranges' house elves began digging a giant basin near their manor. And "Burke's friends" who went to America in search of wands and ingredients carried with them a large number of ordinary water snakes to release into the Great Lakes. The snakes had orders to find a large horned serpent and tell it that a powerful human speaker offered to take it in. Snakes were excellent at tracking their kin, and at least one horned serpent should agree and come to the designated place of pickup. My people were already set to monitor that lagoon every day.

I was also concerned with Newt Scamander, the top expert on magical creatures. He may be too morally uptight to serve me, but a legilimency session was in order once I found him. Newt considered the 1965 ban on experimental breeding of dangerous creatures his greatest achievement, and I wanted to know why. Did he see something alarming? I could really use some workable breeding algorithms. Maybe cross a basilisk with a horned serpent...

Speaking of experts, capturing Ollivander might have been a mistake. His obsession with wands was contagious. How could so many wizards not care what they used to create magic? What if the wand exploded? Or stopped working? Or fired at its own master? Wands were no hammers, they did not simply serve anyone who picked them up.

I tried my hand at crafting an "Elder Wand." Pensieve memories helped me reconstruct the exact copy of Dumbledore's wand shell. I planned to stuff it with a number of "Dark cores": dementor's bile, hawk claw, white wolf tooth, cockatrice eye... Of course, it would be nothing more than a prop: I was no master wandcrafter, and multiple cores made casting impossible even in principle. Hopefully, this one won't explode like my last four attempts... But the room had stationary wards, so everything should be fine.

One day, an anonymous criminal will kill someone with a conspicuous wand that look just like Dumbledore's. The DMLE will demand his wand for analysis... If Dumbledore indeed had THAT wand, handing it over would be a terrible idea. And resisting a criminal investigation would tarnish his reputation. Also, when I kill Albus, next to his corpse will be found a broken wand made from horribly illegal ingredients... Yes, Lord Voldemort broke the legendary Elder Wand to put an end to the long chain of murders. Hail the hero!

Some wizards were obsessed with becoming stronger. But why would I want the most powerful wand I can not control? I'd rather sacrifice power for absolute loyalty and never find myself wandless in a crucial moment. According to Ollivander, ash and unicorn hair made the most loyal combination. The problem was, ash did not match and unicorn hair outright contradicted my magic. Still, I picked an ash and dragon heartstring wand from Ollivander's stock as an emergency spare. Casting with it was only barely easier than wandlessly. But thanks to ash, anyone who took it from me would struggle even more.

I also decided to create my own spell. Riddle developed several Dark and deadly ones in his days.

My first inclination was something against house elves. But I did not know enough of their nature, and they burned just fine as they were. I put it off, or rather, entrusted it to Rookwood.

Then I wanted to create a spell against muggles. But Tom had already beaten me to it and taught the Death Eaters. One was a simple air-based spell, similar to a small but concentrated version of "air fists." For ordinary wizards, it worked like a machine gun: fast rate of fire, lethal to muggles, easy to cast non-verbally. Riddle's power brought it closer to tank fire, but it remained ineffective against most magical shields. The second curse he created became a staple for destroying clusters of talentless enemies: a wave of death energy that turned everything living in its path into dust... Sadly, it was even easier to block with magic than the first. Riddle planned to develop a magical counterpart of bioweapons next but did not have time.

Personally, I was more interested in tinkering with necromancy. Take, for instance, the standard Serpensortia - conjuring snakes of various size and venom strength depending on the effort. I decided to improve it. Did some calculations... Two days later, I killed a magical snake with Avada and performed a ritual to isolate its behavior program for my future spell.

There existed many "Darkness"- based spells. It was a generic term for something black that dissolved most magical barriers and matter on contact. I conjured a tiny bit of difficult to control black fog. It brought on another fit of pain. But before long, the fog condensed into the shape of a snake that dissolved everything it touched at the cost of losing volume. The beauty of my new spell lied in the fact that the little black snake was self-guided: it understood Parseltongue and followed orders. Lacking a physical body, it completely ignored Vipera Evanesco, Reducto, and all Unforgiveables. It could only be taken out with charmed fire, Light or Dark magic. Or by placing it into a tank with walls so thick it would dissipate before eating through them (calculations showed a snake of Nagini's size would need over 38 tons of mundane rock). How strange... New spells usualy took much more time an effort to create. Was it a side effect of working with snakes as a parselmouth?

I had to keep building on my successes. The Japanese tutor showed Rabastan spells for folding origami. I originally thought to use them against undefended targets as an alternative to turning them inside-out, to undermine the enemy morale. But then, a different idea came to mind...My servants began importing muggle steel. I have not recovered enough to work with thick bulletproof sheets. On the other hand, thin rolls...

The next day, I folded a thin sheet into a giant steel spider and animated it. Very mediocre... Good for nothing more than scaring unarmed muggles. Dragon blood would make the spider more resilient, but it would still be very stupid. It only followed basic orders- go, attack... Making a quality golem was too tedious and time-consuming, especially in my condition. But I knew a solution. Sacrifice. It would imbue the golem with an imprint of a mind and make it work better. I wiped the sweat of labor off my forehead and started on a second steel creature.

Technically, I could animate it with a human mind. But the human shape did not fare well in unarmed fight, and human behavior in any other body would result in an epileptic twitching golem.

Apart from humans, I only knew how to perform the necromantic animation ritual with snakes. So for my next attempt, I made a snake-like golem and attached a snake behavior program. It worked. The golem functioned, obeyed me and solved simple problems. Except it reacted only to Parseltongue and ignored pre-recorded commands... Fine, I'll write a guide to snake golem creation. The servants can then connect the algorithms to "bodies" under my supervision. I will order the new golems to stand by without attacking anyone, then give another order right before the assault.

So far, the "snake" fell easy prey to cancellation of transfiguration. Yet the French somehow made a golem impervious to my charms... Let the Death Eaters rack their brains over this. We could always smear the golems with dragon blood...

My pleasant observation of the multiton steel spider and snake was interrupted by the eldest Lestrange.

"My Lord, we need to talk."

"I am listening, Edward," I answered.

We walked down to his study, where he took unusually long putting up privacy wards.

"There were complications with your orders, my Lord. Regarding Ariana."

What, did she get up and walk away? I can tell a corpse when I see one.

"What complications? The body burned down?"

"No, my Lord. The body is intact. Three independent experts completed their reports on the cause of death. The Spaniard and the Frenchman said the same you and I did. But the German found another oddity on top of Avada Kedavra and incorruptibility charms on the body. He examined the energy strictures as well."

Dead muggles were sacks of meat. But in a freshly killed wizard, one could detect the remains of magical energy that used to flow through the body. Thanks to the incorruptibility charms, the corpse was as good as fresh. Edward handed me the report. Over eight hundred pages...

"Briefly, Edward."

"She is dead. The cause of death is Avada Kedavra, indisputably. But in life, she had a strange energy system."

"How strange?"

"I have never heard of, much less seen anything similar. My Lord, I am afraid we need to bring in Rookwood. His connections at the Department of Mysteries may help," - Edward advised.

"Anything else?"

"Sirius Black and Alecto Carrow began "true love" affair as you ordered. They already had several dates in our manor."

"How did it go?"

"We fed Black a number of subjugating potions but eventually decided to keep him unconscious as an extra precaution. I commanded him from the ritual chamber with the Marionette ritual."

I knew that ritual. Costly and complicated. Very limited effective distance. Required full immersion, as if directing a meat suit. And the potions were so obvious they could only be poured into captive. Just perfect for our case. Black most likely had no idea his body was spending time with Alecto.

"And Alecto? Does she not suspect anything? She is well-versed in Dark magic," I asked.

"In Dark magic, yes, but not in potions. Besides, I can conceal a great deal in my own house, and performing a full scan on a date is not exactly customary. Outside their dates, we had Alecto witness Black acting friendly with all Lestranges and cracking jokes while torturing prisoners. He begged for Alecto's hand and asked her to tell Walburga of his true allegiance. No one else knows about it."

"And what did their dates look like?"

"My Lord... Alecto has a... peculiar idea of romance. She dragged Black into our dungeons where they both tortured muggles... I am not certain about love, but Alecto has lost her head. Although, with such worldview, she would probably make an ideal Madame Black. I think Walburga will be delighted with her son's choice.

Sirius told Alecto his harrowing life story. How he, as a little boy, owled the Dark Lord and offered to serve as a spy among Gryffindors and learn Dumbledore's plans. How the Lord refused to accept his sacrifice, told him to go to Slytherin and make his mother proud. But the stubborn boy did everything his way, found you right after graduating and worked as your spy. He concealed his talent in occlumency and was forced to deceive his family, faking pro-muggle views to maintain his cover. That was the reason he he threw the Family Head ring at his mother and refused to kill a muggle at the altar."

Source-related rituals varied from family to family. Most involved drawings, candles, holding hands in a ring around the altar... Like the Lestranges, the Blacks were a very Dark family. For them, fully connecting to the source after coming of age involved sacrificing a human over the altar. Sirius Black was disowned when he refused to become a murderer. New interpretation: he was afraid that falling unconscious during the ritual (which was all but guaranteed) would reveal his secrets. He was as Gryffindor as Crabbe was a ballerina.

Would Walburga eat this up? Regulus served me openly, Sirius secretly... Lady Black, Dumbledore's minions took the lives of your sons, but you now have a grandson... She should be motivated to believe it. Any lie detection method will show Carrow's memories were real: Black truly loved her and was devoted to the Lord. And by that time, I will master Snape's occlumency and provide the "correct" memories.

"Have you been able to contact Walburga?" I asked.

"No, my Lord. She clearly lost her mind or contracted Moody's paranoia. Judging by magical disturbances, her wards have been on maximum since Samhain."

Hell, it was all too easy to get startled when something inside your warded home unexpectedly exploded. Breaking into the Black's house from the outside would not work- it was old and built to last by people not afraid to get their hands bloody with sacrifices. I had several Imperioed muggles watching the streets between Grimmauld 11 and 13, but it was a gesture of despair. Not even dropping a bomb on the street would harm the house.

"Any other complications?"

"The rest are trivial. No one can determine what killed Kendra. So far, the most plausible explanation is an unknown Dark curse. Also, Crouch has been looking under the weather lately. Did you happen to order him anything dangerous or extremely difficult?"

"No, nothing like that," I should to check his mind next time I see him. "Excellent job, Edward. Let us get back to to the topic of Albus's relatives. I would rather avoid having anyone else in the know. I'll check her one more time before calling Rookwood," I said and headed towards the basement.

Shortly, two Dark wizards were staring at a dead body. And indeed, after looking long enough with magical sight and using specialized diagnostic charms, something appeared very wrong: a number of her energy channels did not connect to the core. I was at a loss.

We called in Rookwood. He was thrilled to confirm this fact and said he did not understand anything, either. Now three Dark wizards were staring at the girl's corpse. But the Department of Mysteries had unique tools... For instance, the Polygone Edge- an artifact resembling a giant rubik's cube covered in runes. It analyzed entered data and shifted to form a string of runes which could then be interpreted with translation tables. While Rookwood could not take it out of the Ministry, he should have no problem using the spot, then erasing the records.

Rookwood returned a day later. He barged into the study as I was discussing dragon blood delivery schedules with Edward (Lord, if we show up with inferi and giants covered in dragon blood, its sales will immediately become regulated and the dragon preserves will increase their security...). Rookwood added a heap of his own confidentiality charms to the room, took off his mental defenses and devotedly stared into my eyes.

I saw him enter the data from memory. The room-size cube spins, keeps spinning for a long time... The runes form a line. Rookwood searches for the meaning in one reference book, second, third... And finally finds it: "Obscurial."

"Do you mean to tell me that Dumbledore's own sister was a weapon of mass destruction?"

"Apparently so. How she became one is puzzling, but it does explain why Grindelwald searched for a loyal Obscurial. It is generally believed they no longer exist, but I am no expert."

I doubted Albus tortured his sister or stopped her from using magic... He was still in school, and his mother did not fit the part of a jailer of a powerful Obscurus... But it made for a great public version: Ariana was stronger than Albus, so he lashed out in envy and tortured her... Or was shaping her into a superweapon for conquering the world... One day he went too far and accidentally killed her, so Grindelwald left to search for another Obscurial... But what really happened? Maybe Albus will be easier to kill if he is morally trampled first.

"How powerful and controllable are these creatures?" I asked.

"Very powerful, milord. Grindelwald had to reason with an Obscurial, unable to threaten it." Rookwood continued. "Defeating it took a coordinated attack of three dozen hitwizards. But at 16, it was the oldest Obscurial on record. Ariana died at 14 -which is also incredibly old- but she must have been weaker. As for control... The smoke form is completely uncontrollable. And the transformation throws off all influences- the Imperius, mind charms, potions, everything. The only option is convincing it in human form. But they intuitively sense deceit... What do you plan to do, my Lord? A perfectly preserved Obscurial is an incredible research opportunity. They are usually reduced to a matchbox of remains, contaminated with traces of spells from hitwizard teams."

"Research is definitely a worthy endeavor. Begin right away and keep me updated," I could not do much at the moment. It was mid-January, and I only just improved from an invalid to a garden variety weakling. "Poweful wizards transform themselves into water, smoke and more, but all such forms limit them to attacking with their bodies and reversing the transfiguration. Does it not sound intriguing, turning into pure darkness?"

"My Lord... It is very... ambitious.. but incredibly dangerous. And despite having a perfect sample, we can hardly copy something that is not human," Edward gently brought me back to reality. "We will give you a model of her energy channels, but an attempt to replicate it will almost certainly kill the subject."

"I am in no hurry and will proceed carefully. We now have another target- a living, knowledgeable witness. I need Aberforth Dumbledore," I issued the new assignment.

"My Lord... Aberforth Dumbledore seems weak only next to his brother. He is a wizard of Dolohov's level, though he does not flaunt it. He is in the Order and lives in Hogsmeade, right under his brother's nose - we won't be able to catch him unaware, and Dumbledore would come running. We may be able to kill him during one of the Order's operations, but I do not see a way to capture him alive."

"Think," I said. "If you can't come up with anything better, we will brew "Call of the Dead." Your job is to ensure he drinks it. Yes, I realize he is no mudblood patsy- be creative."

How would Albus react to his brother held hostage? Maybe I should offer him peace? Divide England in half... He can take all the mudbloods. And I would follow the treaty terms religiously. Until he dies of old age...

"So, if I understood you correctly we have a body of an Obscurial in absolutely ideal condition?"

"Yes, my Lord," Rookwood replied. "What do you plan to do with it once we finish the research?"

"An experiment. Has anyone ever tried raising a magic-wielding corpse from an Obscurial?"

Their eyes bulged out comically wide, making them look like overgrown house elves.

"My Lord... It would be best to conduct this experiment in a remote location, not in this house," Edward politely hinted.

"You are going to need a specially reinforced building. And a team of disposable wizards. Just in case," Rookwood added.


	25. Where Is Horace Slughorn?

My recovery dragged on. I could already take on two or three Aurors.

I was enamored with the idea of "the Order of the Phoenix's multiple crimes." Severus showed me their Wings of Light spell: the same partial transfiguration-based flight we used, except with white smoke. Inspired, I decided to modify a generic light beam charm to solve my image problems among those incapable of magical sight. Look, the Lord is performing Light magic! Because what was Light magic in the eyes of the masses? Something with a white glow.

Study of Ariana's body continued. The standard lich-raising ritual would clearly not work. We made a diagram of her energy system but did not know what to do with it.

The unicorn idea was a bust. A captured unicorn looked contemplative for a brief moment, then tried to attack me or run. Neither legilimency nor the Imperius worked on it. And vampires refused to drink unicorn blood. When forced, they went up in flames from the smallest drop.

Golems and undead improved with dragon blood were also well underway. We were refining the plans of attack on Crouch's manor. Everything looked excellent: we know the time and the place, our soldiers take Felix Felicis and join the fight only after the enemies already hurt one another, Imperio'd wizards at the Department of Magical Transportation stop the enemy from sending backup or hindering our retreat.

What bothered me was my central role in neutralizing Dumbledore. I had to keep him busy for the entire duration of the battle and end it with at least a tie, lest someone realizes I've changed... Not an easy task for my weakened Dark magic.

I had two ideas. First, sort out Ariana and sic the raging black cloud on Albus. But I did not know how realistic it was. And we were running out of time.

Second option. Yes, my Dark magic didn't measure up. But everything else was still with me! Then, Dumbledore will face a mental battle. Which was why I spent so much effort digging into his past. Even the smallest fear could help. A frightened foe was already half-defeated.

I brewed the Call of the Dead from some of Kendra's bones and Ariana's hair, then tasked my servants with slipping it into Aberforth's drink. Hopefully they won't disappoint...

I sat at Lestranges' study, relaxing. The latest British newspapers were delightful:

 ** _ **The Fourth Unforgivable?**_**

 _ _In the wake of the elimination the Cursed Manticore, St. Mungo's continues to receive a flood of victims gone irreversibly insane from pleasure. The unknown spell similar to anesthesia or euphoria charms is claiming more and more lives of British magical citizens. In the yesterday's session, the Wizengamot has voted to make the use of this spell on humans illegal and punishable by life in Azkaban. Citizens are reminded..."__

All it took was demonstrating my new spell to the Death Eaters. My idea to cripple a portion of captives instead of killing found some avid fans in the Inner Circle. Too bad it was still so costly and raw..

I was just finishing the article when Barty Crouch Jr. walked into the study. One of the brightest students, one of the most devoted Death Eaters. But now... Barty sported a gloomy expression, disheveled hair and an earring in his right ear. He had deep shadows under dull eyes and looked even thinner.

"How goes your mission, Barty?" I questioned him.

"Your assignment is completed, my Lord," a worn out voice answered.

"Did something go wrong?"

"Everything went well, my Lord," Barty replied in the same monotone.

"Were there any complications?" I did not relent.

"My Lord... I was able to overcome the complications. I also brought important information about my family. May I hope I will not have to sleep with any more... muggles? They stand there looking perfectly human, but I know for a fact they have not a crumb of magical power... Touching that is creepy... And may I hope none of our people will find out? Because they would, at best, stop speaking to me..."

Apparently, I underestimated the Death Eaters' arrogance. And Barty was not even the most fanatical blood purist. From my perspective, it was a great idea: muggles would not blow his cover and were easier to manipulate. In Barty's eyes, he was ordered to engage in beastiality. Maybe I should have told him to get caught for being gay? I honestly did not care what my servants did on their own time.

"...I found out my mother is dying. She has Cordner-Verner syndrome and will not survive longer than a year," Barty reported, "she and father don't want to prolong her life with Dark rituals."

It was a rare and serious magical disease, fortunately not contagious. It simply drained the victim's energy until it killed them. I knew of two solutions. First, a monthly sacrificial ritual using any human, even a muggle. The second was a single ritual where a skilled and powerful wizard served as focus for the sacrificial energy. It did not cure the disease but stopped its progression.

"And how did you learned that?" I asked.

Instead of replying, Barty began removing his mental defenses.

I sunk into Barty's memories, watching him layer himself with illusions and confound muggles in search of the best muggle prostitutes. I noted the locations- they might come handy. Barty lawfully exchanged galleons for muggle money, concealed his Dark Mark with a powder I developed all those years ago, drank polyjuice and headed to his mission. After paying in advance, he decided to test the waters with a single muggle. A posh room, a beautiful woman in seductive lingerie... She tried to get him up with her mouth. But instead of surrendering to passion, Barty had to concentrate on not throwing up. The Lord's orders were enough to bring him here but did nothing to convince Barty's subconsciousness that this was a sex partner and not a talking animal...

"Is it your first time? Or do you prefer men?" the woman quipped.

"Everything is fine," a deathly pale Barty replied, "just problems at work."

Attempt number two. She offered Barty to buy potency enhancing pills. Barty excused himself to the bathroom, cast a spell to check the pills for safety and took all with another dose of polyjuice. The situation improved: even though his face still looked tortured, he had an erection.

Barty was offered new pills, this time "to relax." Drugs, as I understood. He repeated the procedure in the bathroom and, satisfied with the orange glow of the diagnostic spell, swallowed a handful... And his world literally bloomed with new colors. The hallucinations luckily did not go beyond colorful blotches, and Barty did not start throwing curses at imaginary acromantulas or try to apparate to the land of pink ponies. But the memories that followed lost all semblance of reason.

All I could tell was that Barty finally relaxed and gave in to lust. At some point they got dressed and went down to the bar for drinks. Barty hired two more girls and took them back to the room for another round fueled by more pills...

He screamed something about love and magic... Confessed his love to the muggle women - all three at the same time- and immediately proved his words with action. Somewhere in the middle of his attempt to try out the entire Kamasutra, Barty ran out of steam. But being a wizard, he quietly cast energizing and partial blood control spells on himself...

The girls burned out and fell asleep at dawn. Barty swallowed another handful of pills, got dressed and stepped out to the balcony to smoke - very strange considering he had never smoked before... And promptly tumbled down from the third story. Fortunately, he had time to instinctively activate his shock-absorbing charm before hitting the ground.

Barty continued mindlessly restoring his shields as he followed the pixies he saw darting down the street. Distracted by the pixies, he did not notice the red light. A passing car sent him flying twenty feet to the side. His shields were more or less activated and saved him from dying from the impact. The feeling of magic drain snapped Barty back to reality. He had enough sense not to lash out with Dark curses. With a shrill scream of "Dragon!" he ran to a back alley and drank the universal antidote. Freed from the effects of drugs and alcohol, he apparated to some magical pub.

At first, Barty could not concentrate on anything over the scathing shame. He spent indeterminate time staring into the glass and massaging his temples. Finally feeling a bit better, he checked his occlumency shields, downed the veritaserum antidote with the rest of his whiskey, poured some alcohol on his clothes and went to the bathroom. As soon as his polyjuice to wore off, Barty apparated home.

The guards only shook their heads at the boss's drunk son and let him in after a brief search. Barty stumbled into his father's study and fell on the couch. Crouch Sr., who was reading something at his desk before work, looked up in shock.

"Barty, what's wrong with you?" the head of the DMLE asked.

"Father, I'm getting married! To all three!" Barty Jr. shouted, but he was already in complete control of himself.

At first, the father cast a number of health diagnostic spells, followed by tests for illusions and polyjuice. The results he saw could not have come from his perfect son: moderate alcohol intoxication, traces of polyjuice use and strong drug intoxication.. He checked Junior's wand with Priori Incantatem, but none of the past thirty spells were illegal or even remotely questionable. He checked for artifacts and potions- nothing, not even a love potion. No Dark Mark or any traces of outside influence.

And so, Crouch Sr. resorted to legilimency. It was technically illegal, but he was, after all, the Head of the DMLE...

"Legilimens!" he cast.

But his son was prepared. Pretending to be half-conscious, Barty showed a part of the truth. Namely, everything from the moment he brought the three women back to his room. How he fell out of the window and got hit by a car...

Crouch Sr. crawled out of his son's memories clutching his own head. He looked like he wanted to say some choice words, but it was pointless with Junior's condition. Therefore, Crouch Sr. did something he has never done in his life: floo-called the Ministry and asked for a day off. He then dove back into his son's mind to see where exactly he was partying and went to investigate.

Two embarrassing hours later, Crouch Sr. came back and poured a sobering potion down Barty's throat. He took the time to thoroughly and patiently explain how wrong his son was. Strictly speaking, Barty could only be accused of illegal use of polyjuice and indirectly endangering the Statute (people didn't usually get up after being hit by a car). On the other hand, the son of the DMLE Head acting immorally so close to the Ministerial elections...

Their argument was interrupted by Barty's mother. The frail woman came in to ask why her husband stayed home, was he sick?

And Crouch Sr. told her of their son's secret: that he gallivanted around with prostitutes with no regard for the elevated security and dangers of war. But Mrs. Crouch unexpectedly took her son's side. She accused her husband of not giving Barty enough love and forcing him to seek validation on the side. Crouch Sr. replied that he worked long hours for the sake of the family; she insisted his workaholism was selfish. This was the first time Barty Jr. ever witnessed a family fight where the subject was his father rather than him.

It ended when Crouch St. pulled out his ace: he needed the Minister's post to get the Department of Mysteries clearance, where he would hopefully find a way to save his wife without human sacrifices. At that, Barty Jr. demanded to know why he was left out of he loop. It turned out his mother was dying, and they had already tried every known cure save for the most abhorrent ones.

While reassuring their son, the two lovebirds quickly made up. Barty Jr. was ordered to "remember we always love you" by his mother and "get married or not get caught" by his father.

I left Barty's mind. His parents seemed to truly care for him. And we were planning to kill them. At least the father. However, now their situation perfectly explained Elena's escape: Crouch Sr. sold out to the Dark Lord in exchange for a cure.

I had some doubts about how Barty would react to his mother's death. But if she had less than a year and said she was "ready to die for her son," I will find a use for her...

We must also send Skeeter to that brothel. Who could have thought that all those ramblings about the power of love were actually just advertising orgies in the muggle world? Death Eaters? Are you insane - a pureblood paying muggles for sex and confessing his love?! Much more likely Albus reliving his glory days.

"You have done a splendid job, Barty. You are to continue searching for sex-based rituals," Barty sighed "but you may use witches and wizards," Barty stood up straighter. Surely there were magical brothels he could visit, it was only a matter of price. "Now, the new corrections to our plan..."

Having finished giving out orders to Barty Snape, Selwyn and Burke to prepare the ritual of blocking Cordner-Verner syndrome, I decided to take a break and browse through Lily's mind.

She was reading Dumbledore's biography we prepared for print: father died in Azkaban after confessing on the stand that he attacked children because he "loathed all muggles.' Brother Aberforth throwing goat feces at journalists. Mother mysteriously dead at her prime, no postmortem expertise conducted. Young sister almost never seen outside the house, then dead under unclear circumstances. Albus falling out with Grindelwald on the day of Ariana's death. Rumors of Grindelwald having the Elder Wand that was claimed by the victor. A string of sudden pureblood deaths from "dragonpox." The next generation pureblood deaths in a civil war, many of their assets coincidentally willed to the Order of the Phoenix...

But suddenly, all of Lily's thoughts became unimportant. I finally stumbled upon a hint at Horace's location!

Lily once gifted him a transfigured goldfish. Most transfiguration was temporary, but the goldfish was in no hurry to disappear. Horace examined it with magical sight... But I would never buy that a muggleborn who had yet to finish Hogwarts managed permanent transfiguration- it was difficult even for me. More likely, she accidentally created an object that has been leeching a tiny bit of her magic ever since. Considering its size and non-magical nature, the fish needed a minuscule amount and had all the chances to live as long as Lily...

I wonder, did Horace know this? Even this simpler type of transfiguration was impressive enough to single her out.

So, if Horace had the fish linked to Lily, he could be traced... Decent wards would prevent it, but he was hiding in the muggle world where excess of magic would draw unwanted attention. And his constant moving around ruled out the Fidelius.

How to do this? The simplest option -sacrificing Lily- did not work for me. Another was blood magic performed by Lily. But she was not anywhere near that level.

This only left sacrificing the wand used to perform the spell. How to pull it off with her remaining none the wiser... She hardly reached the point of willingly helping me find people to torture...

Everything was not as daunting as it first looked. I found a large rug and finished drawing the runes for the modified ritual in one day. Lily's old wand went into a small willow box filled with unicorn hair. I summoned an eight-person squad: all Lestranges, Mulciber, Dolohov, Nott and Jugson. That should be enough to capture Horace, right?

"My faithful followers, I have an assignment for you. My student says she is ready to perform a ritual that will show us way to Horace Slughorn. She is in no condition to capture him- Snape's treatment was inadequate, and she needs more time to recover. You will go to the given coordinates and bring him here alive and unharmed. In one piece. You can use the Cruciatus judiciously. Discuss the details among yourselves. Edward Lestrange is in charge. We will begin shortly."

I walked out and apparated straight to Lily. When will she stop twitching at my appearance? She should know I had no time to waste on pointless niceties like knocking.

"Tonight we must show how effectively Snape is healing you," I began. "We will perform a diagnostic ritual. All you need to do is unroll this rug, stand in the red circle, put this box into the green hexagon and pour this liquid over it. The box will burn. This will prove you need a couple more months away from serious magic."

"Is it necessary, my Lord?"

"No. You can say you are completely healthy and go fight or torture along with everyone else. Or refuse and be killed for deserting duty."

"What is in the box, my Lord?"

"Unicorn hair. It has potent healing properties. See for yourself."

The house elf will transfer her wand inside later, anyway.

"And what is this liquid?"

"A solution based on dragon blood," number 12, artifact destruction. "This is not blood magic, the blood is merely a potion ingredient. I will be in your mind and walk you through every step. Once you are done, the viewers will leave to search for ingredients for your "cure."

"Ritualistics is illegal, my Lord."

"So is being a Death Eater. This is a completely harmless ritual. Magic can be done wandlessly. If you lack the necessary power, you can use a wand. If the wand is not enough, you need a ritual. Both are simply crutches for your own magic.

"I agree, my Lord."

"We are leaving right now. Remember: I will be givinpg you directions, but you must do everything yourself."

I cast the usual shields on her, and we apparated back.

Eight pairs of eyes gawked at Lily unrolling the rug- what kind of search ritual was that? Memorize, watch it in a pensieve, do whatever you want - it will all be futile. I drew part of the pattern on the ceiling of the room below and covered it with multiple concealment charms... Let them think she was holding the other runes in her head, hence the sluggish movements.

Lily stood in the circle and levitated the wooden box in its place. I mentally showed her what rune to tap with her wand - and the entire pattern began to glow. The blood solution instantly burned the box, leaving behind black ash. She didn't flinch- well done.

Edward watched a mark appear on the map I gave him. Now everything was a matter of speed. What if Horace happened to be moving right this moment? And so, my loyal servants hurried to work.

* * *

Mulciber felt the burn of an urgent summons at two in the morning. Talk about bad timing... He apologized to his wife, put on his uniform and apparated to the Lestranges, where he immediately received orders to prepare for Slughorn's capture. Why such a huge team? And why the Inner Circle? Even worthless recruits could take the old man ten on one. Half-heartedly fighting off sleepiness, he listened to the plan of attack: who blocks background magical disturbances, who blocks flight, who blocks underground movement, who masks everything from muggles, who must drink what...

He very much doubted Elena could pinpoint Slughorn's location. They already tried everything imaginable: tracking unregistered apparitions, unusual magic disturbances, sending owls with trackers – with nothing to show for it. The old man was bound to make a mistake sooner or later, but the Lord needed him pronto...

The sudden introduction of the Lord's student shocked him just like it did everyone else. If anyone held a claim to that title, it was Bellatrix. But who could imagine Elena would outdo Rosier or survive Diagon? Anyone thinking of taking the new favorite down a peg quickly lost that desire. Though judging by the the total lack of self-preservation she showed so far, she would soon get herself killed all on her own...

The ritual didn't impress him. The pattern was obviously missing a lot of runes. He tried to understand what she used for sacrifice. It smelled like wood and hair, glowed with Light and Life in magical sight... A unicorn or something?

But strangely enough, the ritual worked- Lestrange got a mark on his map, and they were off.

His team arrived fifty miles away from the spot by a series of apparitions. After half an hour of flying on brooms to avoid any apparition detectors, they finally reached a shabby two-story muggle cottage in Oxshott.

"A pureblood is living here?" Mulciber couldn't help but sneer. There was no outward sound, but the protean charm on their masks connected him to the others nearby.

"It is irrelevant. We work according to plan A, get a move on," Lestrange ordered.

The rest was simple routine. They cast the standard charms: isolation of ambient magic to stop the Ministry from noticing, blocking of apparition, portkeys, floos and fligt to stop the target from escaping, multiple locator charms, summoning antipatronuses. Edward, Rabastan and Jugson stayed in reserve to cut off any attempts to call for help, and the rest of them barged into the house.

But it was empty. Completely empty save for a few signs of Slughorn living here- boxes of books and pictures of his students, a madly spinning sneakoscope... The room converted into a makeshift potions lab looked like it suffered an explosion: everything was covered in blood and ingredient spatters. Human detection charms showed nothing.

"Bad luck with a potion?" Mulciber asked over the connection.

"Very unlikely," Nott replied. "A potions master can die from a cauldron explosion in only two cases: suicide or a failed attempt to create the Philosopher's Stone. Search better and be ready for an ambush, everyone."

There was a sudden burst of flame in the living room.

"Bellatrix, what are you doing?" Rodolphus asked.

"The Dark Lord said to destroy all of the goldfish," the crazy witch chirped.

This was the company he was stuck with... One indescribable fanatic murdering fish on the Dark Lord's orders. Another fanatic trashed his best friend so hard he still hasn't recovered and drew runes on an antique carpet, which surely ruined it. Even Nott has gone mad - waving his hands at the blood on the wall...

"I can't control it," Nott exclaimed.

"My condolences. You have magical exhaustion too?"

A master of blood couldn't force blood to flow into a vial despite standing two feet away from it. What in the world was wrong with him?

"This is not human blood," Nott explained. "I can't say for certain, but probably dragon."

Now, that was bad. It meant Slughorn disguised himself so well they all missed him. Mulciber never doubted the success of their mission but did not want to be today's lucky winner of the only Avada in the back.

"No one has crossed the perimeter," Edward reported.

They spit up and began a tedious sweep of the house, casting revealing and transfiguration-canceling charms at every object... So far, the only traces of magic were alarm charms.

"Maybe he transfigured himself into gas or an invisible baloon and flew out?" Mulciber wondered out loud.

"Edward said nothing's crossed the perimeter. The Antipatronuses wouldn't miss a human, transfigured or not. We blocked all movement underground. And his cauldron is still warm. The bastard is still here somewhere."

Well then, they could only hope the target didn't pretend to be a fish, or he was already dead.

They checked the lab, both bedrooms, and moved on to work on the living room. Or more precisely, Mulciber was doing all the work while Dolohov stood watch. He was about to check the coffee table when a large armchair turned into an old man, who in one smooth motion cast a Fumos Duo and threw Peruvian darkness powder out of his pocket. The house plunged into darkness.

Mulciber cast a self-guiding stunner, instinctively rolled away from the line of fire and yelled that the target has been found. Dolohov offered the target to surrender, threw an escalating pain curse and dispelled the smoke screen.

But instead of begging for mercy, the desperate old man cast Fiendfyre and jumped out of the window. While Mulciber and Dolohov were trying to subdue the raging flames, the potions master successfully defended from three other Death Eaters, tried to summon the Aurors and conjured a Dark Mark over his house. His logic was understandable: create a strong blast of Dark magic to attract the Aurors and turn himself in.

Of course, no charms got through the barriers. They quickly put out the cursed fire. They only real problem was the Dark Mark lighting up the night sky. It was not a quick to dispel charm. The Ministry may not detect the magical disturbances, but anyone who looked up would notice the giant glowing skull.

Slughorn dodged Crucios and deflected the chump change with agility surprising for his age. His shimmering and shadow cloak shields were making him hard to target. Nott took a risk and cast a Sulfide's Kiss- the rather powerful poisoning spell had good chances of killing. Bellatrix tried to wrap him with an air whip all the while throwing wandless Crucios like confetti. Her husband attacked with modified shock and paralysis spells. Dolohov stuck to simple bog and soporific charms. Mulciber himself cast combinations of subjugating curses. A momentary stumble was all they needed.

But the old man miraculously stayed unscathed and even sent a fire sigil back at Dolohov, who easily deflected it. The resulting flash of flame was blindingly bright.

"Expecto Patronum!" screamed Slughorn, sending a wispy goldfish through the ward dome. And the Antipatronuses missed it! Fuck... The Patronus was the only charm they could not block. The Aurors will be here soon... But the geezer won't last that long!

Half a dozen of accelerated figures darted around the burned down muggle house in a blur. Slughorn continued with flashy spells, hoping for backup. If Mulciber's team had orders to kill, the old man's body would already be long cooling. But their target was deflecting all non-lethal area spells and dodging or shielding from the rest.

"He must be under the luck potion," Edward concluded. The three of them were holding the barriers to stop the Ministry mutts from showing up. Jugson was also weaving something slow and powerful.

Slughorn turned Nott's blood needles into acid and hurled them back at him. Impressive – that was pure blood for you... He defeated Mulciber's vulture antipatronus with banishment charms and temporarily put Dolohov on the defensive.

Mulciber really itched to answer with something like the blood-freezing curse but instead had to try bringing the target down with dizziness, seizures or dementia.

But everything ended as it should have: their Antipatronuses eventually eroded Slughorn's defenses. The man first received an epilepsy hex from Edward, then a Crucio from Bellatrix, Mulciber's Imperius, Nott's Blood Marionette, Dolohov's escalating pain curse, and finally Rodolphus's stunner. After casting a number of additional stunning, paralyzing and antitransgression charms on the now unconscious target, they hurriedly checked his blood for delayed suicide potions, fed him the Draught of the Living Death and apparated back to the base.

The muggles who were still awake had a few more moments to enjoy the sights of fire, flashing lights and a strange hologram in the sky. Thirty seconds after the Death Eaters disappeared, Dumbledore and the Order arrived on the scene following the distressed message of a goldfish Patronus. The Ministry's first responders rushed in a couple seconds later. But it was already too late. Only the obliviator teams had work to do.

* * *

I sent Lily back and finished erasing the runes on the ceiling below when my servants returned with Slughorn. The Lestranges went to process him for interrogation, and the rest went home.

Soon, Rodolphus and Edward came back to examine the ritual site. While Rudolphus studied the runes, Edward seemed more interested in the rug itself. Rabastan went to bed - he had homework in the morning. Bellatrix headed for the training hall, elated with the praise she received.

After waiting the required time for Felix Felicis to be purged from Horace's blood, I went to his cell. It was identical to Ollivander's, except with more secure restraints.

Horace Slughorn looked far from impressive. But this fat, short, balding old man managed to keep a team of my best men busy for almost half a minute. And there was another old fool in bright robes who looked close to crumbling into dust... An old man whom the Dark Lord was afraid to face with a small army of golems and undead...

I touched my wand to his head. Excellent blocks... I probably won't break them without leaving him insane... But he was no Snape. I would notice him lying or withholding information.

Well, let's first try to persuade him under Veritaserum. If that fails, move on to torture. And he would be good practice for mental magic before engaging Dumbledore.

Antidote to the Draught of the Living Death, dispel paralysis and stunners... The answer to my "enervate" was Horace's tired and defeated gaze.

"Hello, Professor Slughorn. Your old student has been seeking a meeting with you for a long time. How would you like to join me? A wizard of your talents is always in demand. If you don't want to participate in raids, you can brew non-lethal potions. We will pay you generously. After all, you don't truly have a choice."

"There is always a choice. And in times of war, polyjuice causes no less suffering than a bone breaker."

"Well, well... When did a Head of Slytherin become this scrupulous? In the old days, every wizard dreamed of greatness, now we are lucky to have one out of ten. Blood traitors like the Weasleys squander their heritage in hopes of quiet, unremarkable life... Are you one of their lot, Horace? Would you allow ephemeral ideals cost you your well-being? Cost you your life? You love potions. Share your knowledge for a fair compensation. You don't want to be a Dark wizard? Then don't be. There is a lot of room behind the Dark Lord's throne for you to maneuver..."

"Go to hell," he cut off my painting his brilliant prospects. I wonder, what did he count on? That I kill him in rage?

"Why must you be so crass? You are a true Slytherin. You love comfort. I will provide it for you. You love gathering famous and powerful people around you. You can keep doing it, even inviting muggleborns if you so desire. You have all the makings of a great adviser. And I will listen to your ideas. I do not wish to destroy muggleborns or subjugate muggles. I am not the maniac everyone thinks I am..."

"You are much worse!" he exclaimed.

Was Lily his long-lost daughter? Because they sure had one brain and one vocabulary between the two of them. Both decent at potions, both had a Dark side they refused to embrace..

Funnily enough, my words held a lot of truth. I had an abundance of loyal psychos but could really use an HR specialist. Unfortunately, this was one of those times when my reputation worked against me. He taught me in school, so no grand performance would change his mind.

"How unfortunate that you do not share your wand's flexibility, Professor. I know there is absolutely no malice in you. You are deeply ashamed that you once told Tom Riddle about horcruxes," the old man flinched. "You hide your true memories out of shame, not fear" if he told Albus, he'd be protected at Hogwarts.

"Horace was the name of a Greek Epicurean poet. Epicureanism suits your love of good food and company, but you are also a highly intelligent and educated wizard. You know a lot of truly rare Dark magic, though your interest is mostly theoretical," otherwise, he would have long been mine. "On top of Dark magic and potions, you are well versed in occlumency and self-transfiguration. All that potential need not be wasted. The pureblood Slughorn line need not end with you. Is it really so hard to make the right choice? Live a long life in wealth, happiness and respect or die in agony as a rotting piece of meat?"

"I already made my choice, Tom. Do what you want, but you will not learn anything."

Did I end up in a world of reincarnated kamikaze pilots? What did I say wrong?!

"Maybe Veritaserum will make our conversation more pleasant?" I suggested.

"Veritaserum won't help you."

An antidote? Standard? Modified? No matter. With his blood and no time restraints, I could always brew a personalized truth serum.

I made a neat cut on his forearm and checked his blood. Sure enough, an antidote.

"Crucio! Legilinens!" Entering his mind felt like hitting a solid wall. Wary of tiring myself out or harming him, I left.

"Your occlumency inspires respect. Keep in mind that I am ready to accept you into my Innee Circle at any time. But right now I have questions. What do you know about horcruxes and where did you learn it? Why did you not create them- any reasons other than moral compunctions? Who else may know about them and from where? Where or in what families should I search for books on horcruxes? What and from where does Albus know about them? How did you meet him? What is the range of his interests? What do you know of secret entrances into Hogwarts? Which of your students you believe had the most potential and why?"

I briefly thought of breeding all my enemies before killing them, following the example of Black... But it would look beyond suspicious if all who opposed the Lord changed their minds right before death and willed their children to serve him...

I wished I could delegate the interrogation to someone, but he might get the bright idea to scream "your lord has seven horcruxes!" What then, kill my own servants? Besides, being the best at legilimency meant I had the best chances at success. So what if I haven't recovered? The target was securely restrained.

"Crucio! Imperio! Legilimens!"

Again nothing... But no matter. He was not made of steel, and I had a lot of free time.

"You asked for it," I said, pulling out the pain-enhancing and hallucinogenic potions out of my pocket. Hopefully I won't have to resort to brewing the Drink of Despair. His antidote can't last forever. I just needed to not overdo it with torture. Maybe brew mind-altering potions to help convince him I was his father or best friend for the rest of his short life... The most important part was asking the right questions...

* * *

 _ **Albus Dumbledore**_

The school barely got into full swing after the Christmas holidays, but Albus's head was ready to explode... The war, the Order, the ICW, and, most of all, Hogwarts... The Board of Governors were acting like they all got bitten by a rabid manticore. They numbered all the classrooms, posted emergency action plans throughout the castle, bought new brooms for every team, made a huge number of extracurriculars available to any student with at least an A in every subject...

Their initiatives were commendable, but Albus ruthlessly cut the content. Banishment charms in the defense club? Against banshees? What were the chances of an average person running into a banshee?! Not even mentioning that at this pace the castle will soon be empty of ghosts... Fire whip at the dueling club? What were they trying to do, train an army for Voldemort? Or encourage the children to decapitate each other? At least he finally convinced Flitwick to limit the program to non-lethal spells.

And his own skirmishes... That giant was unusually large... And those bizarre cases of muggleborn Death Eater supporters...

The elections were approaching. Albus once again refused to be nominated a candidate for Minister. He remembered all too well where power once led him.

Severus never came back form the last Death Eater meeting. Betrayal? Death? Albus still nursed a hope that the potions master was alive and would return with important information. Severus should really be fired for missing weeks of work, but spying took precedence over teaching. And hiring a new teacher in the middle of war was a giant security risk... So Albus saw no choice but to substitute for all of Severus's classes himself. If it weren't for the time turner, he would have hanged himself from stress.

The children were thrilled with their Headmaster teaching potions. For once the point distribution was fair across all houses. A potions master teacher made Hogwarts very prestigious... If only Severus had at least a little bit of sympathy for children and taught on their level... A dismal picture.

But on the bright side, Albus got plenty of practice wandlessly shielding simultaneously exploding cauldrons. He even began drafting a new essay: "117 Mistakes in Using Porcupine Quills."

But above all Albus was concerned with Hume. The Slytherin fifth year returned from the break with the Dark Mark. The house elves informed him the very first night- the boy did not think to cover his mark in the shower, where a disillusioned elf happened to be changing towels... By law, Albus should have turned him in. Like Crouch said at the last meeting, "all Death Eaters must rot in Azkaban..."

Albus checked the child's mind the next morning during breakfast. He detested violating people's privacy but sometimes had no choice... Circumventing the amulet did not take long, and the boy's occlumency was still rudimentary. The poor child was ordered to kill Albus Dumbledore as punishment for his father's failure, his whole family held hostage. He was forced to practice the Imperius and Cruciatus on muggles and memorize poison recipes... The boy had not killed anyone yet, maybe he could still be saved?

Albus did learn something reassuring: Severus was alive. The boy's Head of House advised him to focus on studying for the OWLS - passing would give him two more years to prepare.

Other than this one glimmer of hope, everything had only gotten worse. Over the past two weeks, someone bound a number of muggleborns and their parents to Albus with love potions. He would have dismissed it as a prank, but spending several liters of expensive dragon blood on a complicated love potion that did not require the target's body parts was no child's work. And Tom always knew how to sow discord... Most Hogwarts students started carrying poison detectors and confronting each other over prank potions.

Now the Headmaster was heading to the infirmary. Another mass fight, this time between Slytherin and Ravenclaw. A Ravenclaw argued that Dumbledore was much better at teaching Potions than Snape when no adults were in sight. The argument evolved into a fight, then into a free-for-all between the two houses. And now Pomfrey needed help with someone's pink tentacles oozing puss... Most likely the result of simultaneous Furunculus, Densaugeo and some botched rotting curse layered over a jelly-leg jinx... Just where did they learn a rotting curse? Family or the Restricted section?

Albus was walking towards the infirmary on foot- a stroll through the castle always relaxed him. A lone first year Hufflepuff started following him. Please let her not be another love potion victim...

"Elizabeth, dear, did you want something?" Albus asked kindly.

"Yes, Professor," the girl mumbled, staring at her feet.

Albus reined in the instinct to use legilimency. It was the curse of all wizards strong in the Mind Arts: legilimency felt as natural as any other sensory organ, so not invading unprotected minds took conscious effort.

"Is something bothering you?" Albus tried again.

The girl finally looked up with unhidden curiosity: "Professor, is it true that you have the Deathstick?"


	26. Secrets of Magic

It was astounding. Horace continued playing hero for several days in the row. He even attempted to kill himself by igniting his own blood and driving himself insane with occlumency. But I was prepared and worked very carefully, with redundant precautions. Two days of torture and legilimency gave me disappointingly little information until I finally found his weak spot: he decided that telling me about horcruxes was what pushed me on the wrong path. He developed this fantasy so far he really began to believe he created a monster.

Horcruxes... Although Horace did not even know how to create them, I found out more than I bargained for...

* * *

 **Horace Slughorn's memories.**

In the long past summer of 1921, at yet another international potioneer convention, young Horace Slughorn met a living legend: Nicholas Flamel's student Albus Dumbledore. Two talented potioneers had a lot to discuss, and soon Horace was inviting Albus to his home to view a curious artifact: an hourglass whose sand speed changed with the emotional intensity of conversations nearby... Hungry for power and fame Horace asked his colleague about self-improvement rituals. He was especially interested in one cursory mention he found in a family book: horcruxes.

The next thing he remembered was a flash of light and swift unconsciousness.

When Horace opened his eyes an hour later, he found himself bound with magical shackles and amti-traversing charms.

"What is going on, Albus? I'll report you to the Aurors!"

"I must apologize. I took you for an upstart Dark Lord... Now we are going talk, and you will decide your course of action. I must inform you that creation of horcruxes is banned by the Mcbrune Act of 1053. The Act was named after a muggle sacrificed in a horcrux ritual."

"It is Dark magic?" Horace blurted. "I had no idea!"

"As you shouldn't. The last known horcrux in England was made in the 17th century. The taboo on the word "horcrux" was lifted a century ago, and the Department of Mysteries disbanded the division for their search 30 years ago," Albus explained. "Dark magic is bathing in infant blood to heal wounds. A horcrux is magnitudes worse. The punishment for creating one is disembodiment, and it has not been practiced since the 17th century. The punishment for possession of books on horcruxes is more lenient: the kiss."

"But I don't have a horcrux! Or a description of its creation! Only a mention!"

"I know,"'Albus nodded, unperturbed. "Once I stunned you, I tested you for horcruxes and looked through your mind. I already burned the book you are talking about and am ready to reimburse you for it."

"That's illegal!" Horace was exacerbated despite his predicament.

"Horace, you don't understand the severity of this. Do not ever mess with horcruxes."

"And how would _you_ know?"

"From speaking to knowledgeable people, including Nicholas Flamel. He reacted to my question the same way I did to yours. He was once accused of having a horcrux himself."

"But what even IS a horcrux? A spell? A ritual? An artifact?" Horace questioned.

"What do you know of Herpo the Foul?"

"He was a Dark wizard. Very powerful. Lived some time near the beginning of the Common Era and supposedly created the first basilisk."

"There is more. He killed innumerable people in pursuit of power. And he was the first to create a horcrux," Albus lectured. "There are always people willing to kill for power. But Herpo the Foul understood he could not win alone. And despite all of the basilisk's might, it is nothing more than an animal: it cannot apparate, take down wards or hold a public office. One can win every battle but still lose the war- a commander of an occupied country needs loyal officers, managers, workers, clerks... So Herpo got a "genius" idea to divide himself into multiple parts, creating thousands of Herpo the Fouls to rule over everyone else."

"But that's fundamentally impossible! Even if a wizard connects to another body, he either inhabits it or controls it like a puppet."

"Exactly. Herpo the Foul created a steel golem and imbued it with a part of his own soul."

"Albus... I have some discreet friends at Mungo's..." Slughorn gently offered.

"Sadly, it is the truth. High Light and Dark magic both have intimate ties to the soul. A certain ritual can amplify and focus enough of the sacrificial energy back into the murderer... The soul cannot handle the conflict of energies and tears. The torn off part is placed into a vessel, creating a horcrux. But Herpo the Foul did not quite get the results he expected.

First of all, he grew even more mean-spirited and unstable. Second, he became more powerful in Dark magic. Third, when he died in a Fiendfyre, his followers were able to resurrect him."

"Resurrect him? What kind of nonsense are you spewing..." Horace' skepticism could be cut with a knife.

"Unfortunately, it is not," Albus sighed. "It turned out that as long as a part of his soul remained in the golem, he was effectively immortal. Herpo wanted to create more horcruxes but was killed again. This time, he was cut into pieces and dissolved in acid, and his golem was chopped up with charmed blades. The first horcrux creator died for good, but the discovery of his notes later caused a civil war in Rome - many wanted to become immortal at the cost of only one murder...

Horace, understand: this is just another trap for greedy fools. A lot of people made horcruxes, and they are all dead. Any magic use leaves traces within the caster's soul. Not the energy system, the soul! No one cares about it outside obscure research because these energy traces dissipate with time. That's why normal use of Dark magic is not harmful. The speed of its clearance depends on the individual - positive emotions and remorse speed it up, negative emotions and reveling in cruelty slow it down. Probably less than one in several thousand Dark wizards stand a chance to accumulate enough Dark magic traces to harm themselves irreversibly. Reaching that individual critical level brings gradual but permanent changes in personality: obsessive thoughts, degradation of reasoning, increasingly disregulated emotions... A powerful insane Dark wizard is a horrid sight, especially for the people closest to them.

It is theoretically possible to accumulate so much resudual Dark magic energy that it will literally tear apart your soul and create a so-called spontaneous horcrux. But the universal consensus is that it could never happen in reality- the soul is extremely durable. Herpo the Foul did not want to wait and devised a ritual to splinter his soul. As he later found out, a horcrux completely stops the residual Dark magic energy from clearing out. It continues to accumulate, making madness only a matter of time..."

"Wait. I have two questions. How do you know all this and why is it not publicly available?"

"And what would you tell people? That they can become powerful by turning themselves into walking resonators for the Dark Arts? It is like a golem capable of learning: it becomes smarter and more effective with every battle, eventually choosing its own goals and the means to achieve them. The paradox is that a horcrux, in essence, kills you. The new, stronger version is no longer you: your goals become distorted, and your means... Let's not talk about depressing things. To answer your question, if we disclosed this to the public, thousands of arrogant dropouts would decide they will get lucky where everyone else failed.

How do I know it? Several sources. As you probably heard, I knew Gellert Grindelwald. He was expelled from Durmstrang for his interest in horcruxes. Technically unfairly. Even having thrown away all moral and ethical concerns, Gellert reached the conclusion that creating a horcrux was inappropriate and unwise. That it was worse knocking on an erumpent's horn. Worse than giving goblins fake collateral."

"But you say madness is not instantaneous," Horace tried to argue. "So it would make sense to create a horcrux before facing certain death, then be returned to life and put your soul back together."

"Horace, you should be ashamed of yourself. The method you describe is used by volhvs in the East, but it has crippling disadvantages even apart from human sacrifice. Making your soul whole again requires true remorse, which is impossible to feel at will. And if the horcrux is destroyed, a part of your soul is destroyed forever. That's exactly why horcruxes never gained too much popularity to begin with- failure is a fate worse than Dementor's kiss.

So, Horace, let's assume I satisfied your curiosity. A horcrux is a terrible idea. It goes against morality, ethics and basic self-preservation. It would be best if you forgot everything I told you and not involve the Aurors. For your own good. The magical world is in unrest. Some very educated wizards follow Grindelwald for his ideas of "creating a safe path in Dark Arts." There are few who believe it is possible to create a safe horcrux ritual. A war is coming, and you would be better off staying far away from it."

"I understand, Dumbledore," Horace said gravely.

"I really hope this incident won't stop us from being friends. Please, keep calling me Albus. If you ever need anything, I am always available."

* * *

Well... The information was definitely valuable. I could spread rumors that Dumbledore's father was thrown in Azkaban for killing muggle children in a horcrux ritual. It would have been the last horcrux England, but Albus walked in his father's footsteps, his views too radical even for Grindelwald to tolerate... So, the father of his holiness practiced Dark magic. And obviously successfully- he did get sent to Azkaban. What a curious addition to the portrait of our valiant defender of Light and the common good.

I did not want to think about or believe Slughorn's memories... But all tests proved them true, word for word. Maybe, just maybe Albus was mistaken? Unlikely... Did we really mix up cause and effect? Psychos were not more drawn to Dark magic, it was Dark magic that drove them mad...

It explained a lot. I thought about all the deranged ones in my Inner Circle. Bella. Barty. The Carrows. Mulciber. Rosier... By the way, maybe Snape's strange obsession with Lily was a result of Dark magic overdose?

However, not everything was completely dreary. I did not know about Rodolphus, but the eldest and youngest Lestrange were sane. So was Nott. And Malfoy.

Of course, my own fate interested me the most. If Albus's words held even a grain of truth, Riddle should have gone mad almost instantly. But he made it to five horcruxes! Why? I had two ideas. First: mental magic cleared the mind. Second: he did not make horcruxes out of trash. According to the legends, the Cup had healing properties, the Locket was connected to poisons, the Diadem enchanted mental abilities. What the hell, maybe the Resurrection Stone somehow weakened the effects? But whatever was helping, it proved not enough in the end... Maybe his death was his own fault? Accumulated so much foreign energy that his soul "shattered"?

In any case, none of that really affected the crux of the problem: what do *I* do now?

Abandon Dark Magic? Every occupation had its hazards. Mastery meant learning to avoid them... As for conclusions...

First, it was obviously impossible to simultaneously use High Dark and Light magic. Even if I improved at Light spells, Dark would suffer and cost me my allies.

Second, how much did I have left? When will I go insane from my lifestyle? ...Or will I? This called for urgent measures. I needed to determine the rates of my Dark magic residue accumulation and clearance. Hopefully my soul was in one piece and capable of cleaning itself. But just in case, it would be best to take it easy with Dark magic whenever possible. One could live without Avadas and Crucios. Maybe these spells were especially "dirty"? So, I will try to kill and torture in kind ways... Probably with pressurized air. Or a knife. Or order servants to do it for me...

The method to boost Dark magic was now clear. I only needed to find a way to transfer the cost to someone else. But what about Light magic? Smile and promote love? Pimps were not famous for magical prowess. Save lives? Then Mungo's Head Healer would be the next Merlin...

Back at my house, I laid out my treasures. Three out of five... The diary, the cup, the ring. All tests suggested they would not hold me in this world if my body got destroyed. But they were also something more than the original Founders' artifacts...

I opened the diary and gave it the raw data for an already finished spell- I'll check how well it calculated it... Poured water into the cup and one hour later bottled the resulted potion for analysis... Twirled the ring in my hands, staring at the black stone... The identification rituals were almost ready, and I would soon know all the answers...

It was really time to quit moping around. Maybe keeping the ex-horcruxes close would have some positive effects? I decided to continue carrying them with me.

Horace was in bad shape. I knocked him out and healed him a bit, then started on a modified Veritaserum based on his blood and the Drink of Despair. He will tell me everything, and then I can decide what to with him. Sadly, the potions would take a while to finish.

I strolled down to one of the Lestranges' ritual halls. In its center stood a large charmed cage with a magical bird. A gold and red bird the size of a swan just delivered from Egypt... But this overgrown parrot was not fooling me. I saw an ocean of Life and Fire bubbling inside it with magical sight. Phoenixes actually had very mild natures: herbivores, preferred fleeing over fighting even if you stepped on their tail or hit them with a Reducto. But if you enraged it... For example, attacked its babies or tried to cage it... The fire would rival a dragon. The only real reason for phoenixes' XXXX classification was their lack of aggression.

Poor Malfoy. He paid a couple million for the bird, the charmed cage and the hunters' memories. The cage was a masterpiece: it fully stopped the phoenix from apparating. If only these charms could be applied to large spaces... The hunters' memories further lifted my spirits. I now had knockout charms against phoenixes, and Macnair began training a team in professional phoenix hunter methods.

But most importantly, I had a live phoenix.

"Let's be friends?" I offered.

The bird started to sing. I instantly got a splitting headache and fell into a foul mood, yet none of my defensive charms reacted. I tried muffling charms, creating a vacuum between us, stuffing my ears with transfigured earplugs- nothing helped.

But the Cruciatus shut it up. Wonderful.

"Imperio!"

Of course, nothing was ever this easy. The bird threw off the Imperius. But I had to try.

I immobilized it, cut off a couple of feathers with charmed blades and made a shallow cut next to its eye to reach the tear ducts.

The feathers glowed in magical sight. The tears did not. A test confirmed the tears had no magical properties whatsoever. I so hoped for regular batches of universal cure... Torture it into crying? It probably won't work either.

I dropped some processed dragon blood into my ears to understand the phoenix. What can I say... It was probably related to Horace and Lily- same old insults and refusal to cooperate.

I had already read a book on familiars and the qualities they demanded of their owners. A phoenix did not match me at all, neither in personality nor in magical specialization. Where was I to get selflessness or an inclination towards Life magic?

A phoenix would have made an ideal familiar... Yes, I could kill many people. And even more with a basilisk at my side. But I would easily lose to a large number of enemies. Or to a much stronger wizard. But with a phoenix, they would simply never catch me. A basilisk had to be lugged around, a phoenix moved its owner. And having the same familiar as Dumbledore would blur the line between good and evil.

I could try binding it to Lily... But it was risky and I did not need any more capable enemies.

Since I couldn't convince the birdie, it was time to move on to the next plan.

"Edward, bring me a dementor right away," I sent with a courier charm. Lestrange walked in with the floating creature several minutes later.

"Drink this bird's soul," I ordered the dementor.

" _I can't eat animals,_ " an answer echoed my mind.

I hit it with Ekrizdis's whip. The cord resembling rotting meat brought a dull moan out of the thing.

"Suck the soul out of this being."

The dementor obviously struggled to sense the phoenix- it searched for the bird by touch, finally gripping its immobilized head that stuck out between the bars. It put its mouth over the bird's beak... And nothing. Disappointed, I sent both of my guests back.

I spent hours painstakingly throwing Obliviates at the bird and feeding it the forgetfulness potion. But even with erased "personality," the bright feathered bastard refused to cooperate. Instincts?

I hit it with Crucios and every pain curse that came to mind. Over and over. Fed it potions that caused painful hallucinations. No, I have not gone mad. I just knew it was entirely possible to cry without a mind.

The specimen went insane in a few hours- its squawks stopped translating into words. I cast a mild smoke charm at its eyes. The bird cried, but the tears again contained no magic...

What's more, its feathers began to fade and fall out, making the phoenix look like a plucked chicken. Preparing for rebirth? And then what, I have to start over?!

Two hours later it burned, and a small ugly chick crawled out of the ashes. A day later, it grew back to its old size. Completely healthy, mind and memories intact! I wanted to do that too!

I was going to spend a lot of time examining it. As long as it took... And some inside help would be useful.

Dark magic went far beyond duels and destruction. Testing a Dark wizard's abilities with a duel was not much better than asking a jeweler to hammer in a nail. Tom developed a method to embed a snake into a human body. However many times he tried teaching his servants, no one but him was able to do it. Now I knew why- five horcruxes gave him a tremendous advantage, and some of it remained with me...

I had plenty of magical snakes. But instead of a human, I wanted to try stuffing one into a phoenix body. A still living one.

But every attempt failed- snakes died in the adult phoenix body, and the baby bird version died before I could place a snake in it... Animate the phoenix with a snake soul? How? There was no such thing as a phoenix body, they left behind a handful of ash... And my diagnostic charms showed the bird had enough energy for about six more rebirths- they accumulated it rather slowly.

Many probably tried to tame a phoenix despite being "unworthy." And failed. Was I doomed to failure? What set me apart from everyone?

Control the phoenix? It was impervious to all subjugating charms and curses, illusions and hallucinations. And its rebirth would surely cancel any influence. So, I had to somehow grab at its soul... But how?

Riddle's memories predictably insisted that the answer to every question was horcruxes. I really wanted to make a phoenix horcrux but managed to squelch that desire. How was I going to rule to rule the world if I could not control myself? What's the point of eternity without having the brains to enjoy it?

But I had one more option left to try. I took Nagini out of my basement. She was not a horcrux, so preserving her life was pointless. A partial familiar prevented me from taking a new familiar and did not seem to affect me in any other way. So, Nagini, you will receive a new body. Or die. Either option was fine with me. You will serve me dead or alive.

Nagini was much larger than the phoenix... But this time, instead of shoving a snake into the phoenix, I was going to try working with their souls. I already tried it with other magical snakes and failed. A soul connection to Nagini should allow me to give her some extra help...

The phoenix was once again brought into a vegetative state and went into a pentagram with several sacrificial wizards. The usual ritual of implanting a snake into another body. I said "Legilimens," and the snake's body bit the phoenix...

I was imagining myself a snake. My venom and blood flowed through the bird's veins. A blanket of black smoke was creeping over it, making its already mindless eyes glaze over. I started walking around the ritual hall, making a sequence of cuts on the still living wizards and bird. I essentially combined the elements of several rituals into one, including some from the horcrux creation. Only this time instead of funneling the death energy into myself, I was directing it into the phoenix. I did not need any more horcruxes, I already had pocketfuls of them...

I cut my wrist and began drawing runes, generously sharing my blood with the stone floor. One circle of runes, second, third, fourth... My blood, Nagini's blood, the phoenix's blood, the wizards' blood...Nagini finally went into the hexagon, several magical snakes sacrificed over her body.

The principle of my ritual was simple: connect the soul of one magical animal to the the body of another magical animal and meld them together using the lives of wizards and magical snakes. And a partial familiar bond should give me some control. It did sound crazy when spelled out... But even if it failed, there would be no explosion or any harm done.

I placed the unconscious from torture phoenix in the center. It looked miserable and was barely breathing.

Stepping into the third circle, I quickly healed my bleeding wrist and began. The blood runes lit up with dim glow. The phoenix's mad thrashing rocked its cage, its clucking turned hoarse and pathetic... Until it very abruptly burst into flames. And so did Nagini, all sacrificial wizards and snakes. Another failure?

I approached the melted cage. And there it was, the little ugly head sticking out of the ashes just like the last time... Stupid bird, so many days of work down the drain!

But the way the phoenix looked in magical sight gave me pause. Its energy seemed to have changed- some parts disappeared, different ones appeared where they did not belong...

The bird clumsily floundered around, then opened its mouth:

" _Master, I can't crawl. Why am I so small?_ " I heard it say. In Parseltongue!

I hurriedly cast the familiar identification spell. And it returned positive!

" _Happy birthday, Nagini_ ," I hissed back to her. " _We have so much to talk about._ "


	27. The Attack on Amelia Bones

The female phoenix named Nagini turned out very strange. On the outside, it was a perfectly ordinary phoenix. In fact, one would be hard pressed to notice anything unusual without specialized charms. But there were some drastic differences.

Phoenix-Nagini only spoke Parseltongue. She could not sing, though her rhyming hisses were very entertaining. Her tears held no healing power. But the feathers still had the usual magic, and she retained the most important ability: apparating in a flash of flame. Paradoxically, she found it much easier than walking or flying. I was now uncatchable! And could frame Albus... In the meantime, she must stay a top secret from everyone.

In the light of all the advantages, Nagini not inheriting the muscle memory was trivial. A snake learning to fly and walk in a bird's body made an unforgettable sight. Her attempts at eating were by far the funniest: the ex-snake stubbornly tried to unhinge her phoenix beak to swallow small mammals whole. If I or the house elves did not cut them for her, she would have died of starvation. But she was a smart girl and would eventually adapt. She already once broke her neck attempting to fly and rose from the ashes like nothing happened. Her hissing was far more disgruntled when the house elf dyed her feathers into a copy of Dumbledore's phoenix.

January 25th, 1982 went down in history as a momentous day: I felt completely back to normal, and all diagnostic spells confirmed it. Time for another show.

I was again shuffling pictures around my desk. The candidates for Minister of Magic...

Dumbledore. Officially declined the nomination.

Crouch Sr. The front runner. He will soon die, and even if he somehow escapes, politics will be the last thing on his mind.

Yaxley. A Death Eater. I wish we could push him ahead and into the Minister's chair, but the chances were dismal...

A couple of Ministry small fish, heads of secondary departments. None of them mine, all had relatively low odds.

And Amelia Bones. A very gifted DMLE officer. My staunch ideological opponent, especially after I killed most of her relatives. The removal of Crouch would make her a viable candidate, so she will not live to see the election, either.

The Bones family manor was destroyed and condemned- I went a little overboard with area curses. But we recently found her new home, and, as Rowle said, she must be taught a lesson. Of course, I already had mountains of work waiting to be done and would rather not kill her personally. But this was a great opportunity to check whether I truly recovered and field-test some new projects.. Not to mention I was overdue for another public appearance since the Potters and the Longbottoms.

I put on a Death Eater uniform, covered my wand with an illusion of the old one and gathered the Lestranges to discuss the plan of attack. If it weren't for my tests, I would have gladly ordered a five on one fight or went with my favorite strategy of sticking something sharp into the back of a sleeping, bound and poisoned enemy. But this time, it would just be me killing the target while the Lestranges ensure she does not escape or call for help.

We apparated to a small town in Northern Ireland. After a brief flight (I levitated myself, the Lestranges brought brooms), we reached a lone standing muggle house. It emitted absolutely no magic. If I did not know better, I would have walked right past it without noticing anything unusual.

Edward drew the runes and arranged the miniature pyramid artifacts, the other Lestranges and I did all the wand-waving. Nothing happened for several minutes, and then then the ward instantly snapped into place as if someone turned on the light switch. The Lestranges were left outside, and I stood next to house in the center of a two hundred yard wide circle completely cut off from the world.

Almost immediately, a Patronus flew out of the building. I quickly shot down this attempt to call for help.

"Amelia Bones! I, Lord Voldemort, am offering you a chance to surrender. Walk out alone, wandless and without shields."

Frankly, I was beginning to feel like a cardboard villain: offering enemies to change sides, and they, as always, refuse. The only consolation was that I had enough brains not to share my plans or life story.

My words met silence. I cast additional perception charms on myself- the top layer of dirt became semitransparent. Then charms detecting life, blood, magic... And there was my target, creeping towards the ward edge underground. It wouldn't help- the ward was a sphere. Having gathered some extra energy for the opening hit, I put it all into pressurizing the ground around her.

Alas, the target survived and canceled my spell. I repeated it with more power and drew a couple of runes directly above her to increase gravity. She retaliated by trying to pierce me with stalagmites from below. As I was blocking them, the air filled with multiple darting glowing spheres and animal silhouettes. The light filtering charm saved my retinas, but I missed a Patronus...

"The Patronus is destroyed, my Lord," Rodolphus reported over the connection. Good. Albus made for a terrible third wheel.

Transfiguring dirt into lava finally forced Amelia to crawl out of the ground. Other than the obvious shimmering, delluminating charms and the Shadow Cloak, there was something else concealing her. And so, I embarked on my plan to kill her with minimal use of Dark magic. If it did not work, I would at least get some practice.

A slash of my wand sent over a hundred conjured arrows at the target. Amelia swished hers, and every single one them bounced off her glowing shield. In return, I faced a spray of acid. My shields got wrapped in transfigured spikes, and the dirt tried to pull me underground.

I levitated myself above the ground, transfigured the spikes into sand, deflected the acid and attacked her with the blindness hex followed by ball lightnings. The hex did not work at all, and her grounding charms neutralized the electricity... I tried water-boiling and trash-incinerating spells, but they were deflected with careless ease. A flood of light and microwave radiation produced no results, either.

Our fight was heating up. Literally: a jet of fire, a fireball, flares... Let's add some oxygen to make it all burn better... A marvelous explosion, but it could use some more charmed fire. And the Thousand Razors charm...

I kept Amelia under a constant barrage of fire and air blades. She was holding up very well, defending and even counterattacking. Maybe Tom could have defeated her with the speed of the non-human body alone, but I did not have that advantage. At this rate, we would exchange fire until she fell from magical exhaustion.

In a way, magical defenses were similar to house walls: one could simply break the key support beams to make the whole structure crumble. I've already cast an inordinate amount of scanning charms, and not all of them burned up before reaching her...

Weakness one: she was vulnerable during her own attacks. While casting offensive charms, she could not cast new shields and struggled to shuffle her existing layers. Just as she sent a cutting net flying at me, I threw the Dragonhunter's Spear. Before the projectile reached her, I added a punch of raw power- simply a greenish ray of energy.

Her cutter did not survive my shield. Amelia started to say the counter-spell for the spear but obviously did not have enough time. I was hoping to see her scatter into bloody chunks. But incredibly enough, she stayed unscathed after a direct hit of the Dragonhunter's spear, though much of her shields vanished. An artifact? Universal shield? How much did it drain out of her, a half?

The woman barely came back to her senses when she got hit with raw magic and did not have much choice but to answer with the same. Two rays, my green and her yellow, were pushing against each other, their point of contact rapidly moving towards her. When it touches her, not even dust would remain...

But she again refused to die on my terms. My ray of energy dissolved, and hers spread out in an ocean of fire over the entire warded area. Everything burned: the house, my transfigured spikes, the top layer of earth with my half-completed runes... Amelia should have, too- that spell was considered suicidal. Yet she stood there untouched... Another artifact?

I decided to change strategies. Second weakness: her passive defenses clearly didn't measure up... Feint a powerful hit in one spot, and while the shields gather to deflect it, attack another. But these tricks required very high speed and precision. And she could block the attacks herself on top. The Unforgivables worked so much better...

While she was busy attacking, I spread the simultaneous force of crushing and vacuum charms evenly around her. Then a wandless shield penetrator... And immediately follow all that with an overpowered ramming charm. Her defenses had no time to react, so the ramming charm went through them like paper. I looked forward to seeing the outcome of a watermelon meeting a truck..

Everything went wrong again. With wandless self-transfiguration, she momentarily made a hole in her body, and my ramming charm flew right through it, hitting the dirt behind her. How interesting. I'll have to remember this to defend against killing curses. I should have sent a fireball with controlled explosion at her instead- transfiguration wouldn't have saved her then. The energy I already spent on her would be enough to waste two Auror squads...

"I see you are a worthy witch. Join my ranks!" I offered.

Instead of an answer, she shot out a lightning bolt. I didn't react in time, and my charm against electricity had to block it.

Why was she not using any Dark Magic? I could understand avoiding the cursed fire or convoluted blood spells that were potentially deadly for an inexperienced author, but the Cruciatus was simply a matter of will to cause pain!

I was flying over the battlefield, pelting my opponent with elemental attacks and stunners, all the while remotely drawing runes of paralysis, neutralization, aging, and the like. The woman switched to attacking my artwork but still admirably held her own.

"My Lord, is everything all right there?" Rodolphus asked. "Bellatrix is itching to help you."

"Yes, everything is fine. I am testing new spells. No need to help me," the fight already lasted for several minutes, time to hurry. Back to Dark Magic, then.

I covered her with the Fragilitas curse followed by multiple frost and life-draining spells. The target went on complete defensive. She then faced a shower of stunners with some killing curses mixed among them. Too busy avoiding all, she did not notice a nonverbal wandless Imperius.

I ordered her to surrender, but the curse got thrown off. My mistake, again. I should have used the Cruciatus first and checked her susceptibility to the Imperius when she was wandless on the ground.

I sent forth my new project: a snake made of condensed darkness. The snake met a Spear of Light and exploded in a firework of black sparks.

My opponent was clearly getting tired. I targeted her with Perimortem Paralysis- a potentially lethal stunner based on organ failure, unlike its non-Dark schoolyard counterpart. And alongside it, the force of legilimency and a Waking Nightmare seasoned with wandless Crucios... She dodged and deflected, but her luck has run out: I used fragments of my stunner and nightmare curse gestures to surreptitiously add a slow-acting escalating torture curse. Few could fight under the pain she would feel for the next few hours.

She slowed and began swaying like a drunk sailor. A shield penetrator coupled with a disarmer left her wandless. Before she could try something wandlessly, she sunk waist-deep into transfigured ground and got hit with a Crucio.

Ordinary stunners were still bouncing off her body. Must be artifacts. I crushed her with surrounding air and ripped off everything that could act as an amulet. All jewelry flew to the side. The only thing left was packing her up for transport and interrogation. Still holding the curse, I wandlessly restrained her. If bribes or threats did not work, she would make a great lich.

The body unexpectedly stopped thrashing. The Cruciatus failed?! No, she was just dead... The body slowly dissolving from the inside, how? It looked nothing like blood magic.

Everything turned out much simpler than I thought. Despite being wandless and under torture, she somehow transfigured part of her body into acid. A gruesome way to commit suicide... Unless she botched some other spell? Casting under the Cruciatus was never a bright idea.

Whatever happened, it cost me a captive and a body. I set the now worthless remains on fire and turned to investigate her house. It showed no signs of human life or house elves... She should have a niece. Was the little girl hidden elsewhere? I renewed the illusion on my wand - using a wand dispelled all charms applied to it. After thinking a bit, I put it away and pulled out the copy of Albus's Elder Wand. Unlikely anyone would see me, but still...

"Edward, I am finished. She is dead. Come check the grounds for anyone still living."

The ward shifted colors, letting in Edward. He waved his wand, then cut his arm and repeated the pattern.

"There is no one here, my Lord. Looks like the battle was intense."

"I was offering her a chance to join us. She declined. Erase the traces and leave."

In a few minutes, I was surrounded by pristine ambient magic. Apparating and portkeys created traces. The only method to leave quickly and completely undetected required a disposable wizard who would clean everything and commit suicide. I wanted to try getting around this and called Nagini. Let's see if the enemy could detect phoenix movement.

A chain of phoenix apparitions brought me home. I let Nagini go and went to thank the Lestranges for their service. While there, I gathered a disposable team (ten new recruits without talents, connections or money) and took them to a secluded base. Nagini's soul perfectly settled in the new body. Maybe one of my many magical snakes will find a forever home in Ariana?

* * *

 **Barty Crouch Sr.**

What could the Head of the DMLE possibly do at home at two in the morning? That's right, work. Crouch was reading reports at his desk. Why must he suffer so many idiot informants? Take, for instance, these latest rumors: Albus had the Elder Wand, Albus was a pedophile, Albus was a Dark wizard, Albus killed his own sister... Hard to decide which was more ridiculous. Crouch was already up to his neck in paperwork, and these fools bombarded him with disinformation!

Amelia Bones has become the latest victim of the war. The experts concluded she caught a Crucio after a long battle, then was partially transfigured into acid and burned. You-Know-Who was completely sick in the head, did he suddenly forget how to cast the Killing Curse?

People whispered many things about Barty Crouch. Almost everyone was satisfied with his results but almost no one approved of his methods. Thirst for power, they said. But no, he was not like that. What difference did it make whether they killed criminals who resisted arrest with Avadas or Reductos? They may not use the most popular methods, but they didn't lower themselves to human sacrifice! Even if one really wanted to, even if it was the only chance to save one's wife...

Obviously, throwing everyone in prison without charge or trial would not improve the situation. That was why Barty only imprisoned the guilty. Without charge or trial. How was their guilt determined, then? He decided it. No, Bartemius Crouch was not insane. He just had a huge secret. The key to his success was incredibly tricky yet at the same time incredibly simple. Barty read fresh reports of Death Eater crimes to learn the time and the place, then picked up his time-turner and went to the past.

The past could not be changed. Or more precisely, it changed with unpredictable results, most of them involving the traveler getting stuck in a time loop and erased from existence. So, Barty never changed anything. He merely observed the crime from a safe spot, unnoticed. Sure, the Death Eaters wore masks and used voice-modifying charms. But the few he identified by wands or snippets of conversations got shipped off to Azkaban soon after. Barty was the eyewitness, and the little detail of being there with the help of a time-turner did not need to make it to the reports.

He could not always make it in time. Some failures were truly tragic. The Potters, the Longbottoms... When the killer was You-Know-Who himself, Barty had to watch from extreme distance, lest he would be spotted.

The hardest part was not interfering... Watching people brutally tortured and murdered and doing nothing except memorizing every little detail to analyze later. People called him cruel. It wasn't true. They all deserved it. Yes, he occasionally made mistakes. But very, very rarely.

Barty broke the rule to never change the past only once: on the 25th of December of last year, when a routine operation in Diagon ended in a bloodbath. The perpetrator was believed to be dead by her own spell. Dumbledore came to examine the scene... And in a blink of an eye, Diagon Alley was razed by a nuclear explosion. The experts later called it "58 megaton of TNT equivalent." Whatever that meant, the explosion was monstrous. Hundreds of wizards died, the goblins declared war in response to the destruction of the London Gringotts branch, London itself was gone, no one was even paying attention to muggle casualties, the Statute was bursting at the seams. A mushroom cloud followed by radioactive contamination, then all isotopes abruptly vanishing two hours later... How were they supposed to explain transfiguration to muggles? Dumbledore, who by some miracle survived the epicenter, looked white as death and refused to speak to him. Barty's own son lost his mind from the horror of the tragedy and was admitted to St. Mungo's mental ward...

After soberly assessing the situation, Barty decided that nothing could possibly make it any worse and went to the past to prevent it. He sent Moody away and convinced Dumbledore his presence was not needed. The criminal escaped, but they avoided a global catastrophe. Barty saved countless lives, and no one will ever know... But that was probably for the best.

And now he was again off to the past, by the maximum four hours. Stealing a non-standard time-turner from the Department of Mysteries to go farther back did not seem feasible. But it was all right. He will soon request it legally as the Minister.

An hour before the crime, Barty took his position 19 miles away. Covered with a mountain of concealment charms and wrapped in an invisibility cloak, he watched the site through his telescope with Lencener's glass... It cost him a fortune, but its capabilities were unparalleled.

He soon noticed four figures flying on brooms. Their concealment charms stood no chance against his precious artifact.

The figures landed, and a fifth one appeared. Logically, it was You-Know-Who. But why was he dressed in a full Death Eater uniform? And had an illusion over his wand?

They began raising wards. Barty was too far and did not attempt to eavesdrop. Visual surveillance only. You-Know-Who took off his mask. Illusion on his wand _and_ face? Bizarre... And then You-Know-Who went under the dome alone. Since when did Dark wizards fight fairly?

Amelia's Patronus flew through the ward but was halted with some net and destroyed with Spears of Darkness.

The minutes dragged by. What was taking so long? Amelia was one of the best, but You-Know-Who should have killed her in seconds.

Barty's anxious mind was going off on stupid tangents. For instance, how great that he had the forethought not to tell anyone about the time-turner. His son was probably enough of a moron to use it for group sex and vanish in a time loop... Where did he go wrong in raising him? Worked too much? Everyone jockeyed for power but few were willing to do the work. Barty found a more elegant solution: paying for power with time instead of people's lives... His son will understand when he grows older. And his wife will get better, he will make sure of it...

Just as Barty calmed himself down, one of the wizards entered the ward dome. It started to crumble. The area beneath looked like it suffered a meteorite shower. The wizards cast Astral Cacophony and left. No, one stayed behind. You-Know-Who. Barty's eyes were glued to the Dark wizard's wand. It looked just like Dumbledore's. And Barty should know: the reports on this "Elder Wand" had been an eyesore on his desk for the past three weeks. He would fire the fools if they could be replaced... Were they really hoping for this cheap trick to fool anyone?

There was a sudden bright flash of flame next to the man, revealing a phoenix. He grabbed the bird's foot an disappeared in another flash.

And Barty Crouch Sr. started thinking. It would be easy to make a phoenix replica. But a phoenix replica with a familiar bond that fooled Lencener's glass? Nothing other than phoenixes apparated with a flame. And phoenixes couldn't stand Dark wizards... Barty could not have been under legilimency. But really, a phoenix? Could it be true? He must investigate. Request Dumbledore's wand for testing. Very carefully and politely. And just in case, edit his will to include a very valuable memory...


	28. The Art of Negotiation

North America, Lake Superior. The second largest body of fresh water in the world, larger than the whole of Great Britain. I was in no mood to enjoy the gorgeous scenery. This far from home, defensive charms were draining my energy faster than it replenished, and I had far too much unfinished business back in Europe. But here I was, conjuring water snakes, slapping on tracking charms and releasing them into the lake with orders to search...

"William, are you certain this is the right lagoon?" I asked "Burke's friend."

"Yes, my Lord. It almost ate me two hours ago, I barely managed to apparate away."

Yes, I already saw that with legilimency or I would not bother searching.

Finally, I felt something a few miles offshore: the snakes' tracking signals vanishing...

"William, hide. It will be here shortly."

My conversation partner instantly disappeared. In a few moments, the surface of the lake rippled, and I was forced to fly back to avoid an enormous snake that launched at me from under the water. It dwarfed Salazar's basilisk: wider than a full-grown bull, the part of it visible above the water alone reaching 50 meters. The creature's head was adorned with over a dozen straight horns, and in the middle of its forehead glimmered a dull green rock... So this was what my Patronus looked like in person... How sad that the charm's effectiveness had nothing to do with the animal's type or size...

However, the giant creature did not radiate grandeur. Scrapes and wounds of varying severity covered its entire body. Some of the horns were broken. And in magical sight, it glowed noticeably paler than Salazar's basilisk.

The horned serpent shifted color to semitransparent, pulled its body back underwater, and opened its mouth. Only instead of words, it spat out an incredibly pressurized jet of water.

To my shame, I was still gawking at it and did not react in time. My shields handled it. But I did not come here to fight.

" _Can we talk?_ " I asked, pulling out my wand. _"I can heal you and give you a new home."_

I could try bending it to my will. As a rule, snakes were compelled to obey born parselmouths. But a magical snake of this size and power... There was no guarantee. The situation in the Chamber did not apply- the basilisk must obey the heir of Slytherin. And besides, forced compliance had a nasty tendency to disappear at the worst possible moment. Common interests would bind us better than shackles.

The jet ran dry. The snake closed its mouth and released clouds of steam from the nostrils.

 _" _Who are you and what do you want_?_" it asked.

 _" _I am a powerful Dark wizard and a parselmouth. I am searching for a worthy companion. I sent out small snakes to look for one, you must have heard about me from them. Now tell me who you are and what you want_."_

" _Before, I lived not far from here in a place the humans called Preserve. I grew big and strong. I saw how the humans killed the ones who grew too big. I decided to escape but did not know if there is food outside the barrier. I met your messengers, talked to them and ate them. I decided to swim away, and the humans tried to stop me. They were weak but moved fast and stung me. I wanted to hide at the bottom, but younger snakes attacked me to steal my territory. I had to escape. I gave away a lot of magic to swim through the barrier, and now I am here. But here has little magic and no food. No squids or big fish. The fish here are small, the humans here are stupid and don't glow. And they are all without juice. I swam to the place the little snakes told me about. The man here glowed but did not speak and was weak. I decided to kill him for lying."_

Juice... Magic? Was it talking about muggles? Well, it all made sense. Somewhere in America, there was a magical preserve that bred these snakes. It was obviously aggressive and must have been kept in a secure area. When the serpents reached a certain size, they were killed for ingredients. As far as I knew, most of their value lied in stones on the foreheads that served as a magic accumulators. The keepers really fell flat on their face with this one - it grew so large and amassed so much energy it slipped through the barrier. Just how old was it? Too bad snakes had no proper sense of time...

 _"You can come with me. I do not wish you death, I need you alive. Do you agree?"_

" _What do you want from me?_ " the snake huffed out more steam. " _I won't give you my stone_."

Of course an accumulator stone that size was appealing. But I wanted you for another reason.

 _"I am offering you a new home. A lake with a magic source nearby. You will receive many benefits. First, you will no longer need to worry about food and shelter. Second, you will no longer need to fight for your life because my humans won't attack you. Third, if you decide you want to fight, you can fight on my side. But only on my side or not fight at all. No attacking me or my servants. Fourth, short-sighted wizards exterminated your kind where I live. But we'll be able to fix it. I can find your fellow serpents. And if you behave, I will bring you gifts._ _What do I want from you in return? At the very least, not getting in my way. Live and don't kill anyone. If you want, you can kill who I tell you to kill. And only them. Either kill who I tell you or kill no one at all. I will provide you with plenty of food. What do you eat?"_

And I would receive an indisputable proof of my greatness and status as the heir of Slytherin. My audience was not the type to be impressed by fancy robes or trinkets. As long as it didn't eat any of my people, I would come out on top.

" _I eat any live flesh. The humans fed me cows. But magical animals are better- big squid and glowing fish."_

Excellent. We could not afford feeding humans to this creature. As I understood, it lived on meat and magical energy. Could the Lestranges' source handle _this_? Probably. I did not know anything about that preserve, but they must have had more than just one snake feeding on magic... Maybe I'll move it to the Hogwarts lake after my victory and sell tickets for its fight with the giant squid...

 _"How often do you eat?"_

 _"I can be without food for a long time and hibernate. Then I can eat more cows than I have horns all at one time."_

Again with the lack of understanding of time... It should be fine fasting for a few days. Such obsession with food was strange for a reptile. All right, let's count... Twelve intact horns, five broken... Regardless, cattle was no object.

" _What abilities do you have?_ " I wondered.

 _"I am strong. I can crush, bite and eat. I am venomous. I can spit water, steam and venom. Hit with horns. Become hard to see and hide. Become light and fast. I am very strong in the water. On land I am weaker, my scales itch, and I want to bite. I also have my stone. My precious... You can't have it."_

Yes, I got that part already... Curious, did its magic work symbiotically with the stone? Did the snake have a size limit?

 _" _So, I understand you agree to come with me? What should I call you?__ "

 _" _I agree. Snakes don't need names. When the weak speaker who hid behind the barrier talked to me, he called me "girl" or "SG-14-156._ "_

Give her a name, then? Riddle's memories demanded something dramatic, like Ouroboros... What's the point? I would have called her Nagini, but nobody would believe my familiar changed this much.

" _I'll call you Nessie. I am Lord Voldemort._ "

" _ _Call me what you want. What matters is you feed me often. I don't feel an exit here, all water is still. All the rivers are dead ends. How will you take me away from here? Those who are like you but not so shiny are searching for me._ "_

Transporting such a huge, saturated with magic creature was my plan's bottleneck. Apparate? Well, it would be easier than apparating with the Hogwarts Castle- I'd move her a hundred yards or so. The phoenix? Too much even for her. A portkey? The Ministry would notice- if there was a magical Guinness Book, that portkey would be in it. A ritual-fueled portal? One runic circle around her, another at the destination, multiple victims or multiple Death Eaters drained of magic... We could certainly do it... Except, transcontinental transport of a gigantic XXXXX-creature would discharge so much energy that all of the American law enforcement will rush here at once. And in any case, I had no time to draw the circles - it was a month's worth of work.

This only left physically moving her under constantly held concealment. Down the river, a shortcut across land to Hudson, then swim straight to England. The snake could easily keep up with a ship for weeks... But I did not want to bet so much on her staying unnoticed for thousands of miles... And _really_ did not want to start a war in America.

 _" _I will now feed and heal you. My human servants will get everything ready. Don't attack them._ "_

I put up charms over the area and retrieved my supplies. All the dragon meat and anise tincture I brought went on Nessie's wounds. It was not enough to heal her completely, but she was no longer bleeding. Then William delivered ten stunned cows with a portkey. Nessie alternated between chewing and swallowing them whole, and William kept getting paler.

Soon two more wizards arrived, levitating something resembling a train cistern or a large rocket shell between them.

" _Crawl in there and hibernate_ ," I commanded. " _ _It is larger on the inside and filled with water. They will bring you to your new home_."_

We'd move her via ordinary flight. This cistern took Selwyn three weeks to craft- completely weightless unless you tried to portkey of apparate with it.

The snake eyed me with distrust.

" _ _This is your only chance. If you refuse my offer, your jailers will catch you._ "_

 _" _I will crawl in but I will not hibernate. If you lie, I will kill as many as I can._ "_

Should I have her delivered to the Ministry? Wasteful... This specimen was huge, relatively sane and loyal. And suspicious, but that was even better – mistrust pointed to intelligence. I planned on being a very useful friend.

We sealed Nessie inside. I gave out orders to my allies and wrote Edward a note: " _D_ _ _o_ not open the container without me present, stock up on live cows and redcaps_ _._ " Hopefully, the snake will like their pond. It was wider and longer than her, so she she better not complain.

Time to move on to other business. Two apparitions later, I was strolling towards the New York Gringotts branch.

Gringotts remained the only bank in England ever since its founding in 1474, but it had competition in the US. The majestic snow-white building and white marble stairs leading to the main entrance must inspire admiration in every visitor. Next to the ornate bronze doors stood a goblin doorman in gold and red uniform, greeting the visitors with a bow... That was not my destination. Having rifled through Edward's, Bella's and Malfoy's minds, I knew exactly what to do and say. I walked to the nondescript back door and knocked.

"I am afraid for my life. Non-goblin enemies are pursuing me. I am under concealment charms but do not desire anyone else's money. I request permission to travel to the London branch," I addressed the door, feeling like an idiot.

The door swung open. Inside, I found myself surrounded by one goblin in casual clothes and ten goblins in polished medieval armor holding assorted weapons.

"State your name, remove your concealment and defensive spells, and state the purpose of your visit. Then present your key and wand."

"Lord Voldemort. I would like to discuss my vault opened in November 1981 by Lucius Malfoy. Here is the key and a letter from Mr. Malfoy. He said he notified you of my arrival. I must warn you: my appearance is somewhat unexpected."

I drank the polyjuice antidote and completely exposed myself... If they wanted to chop me up or shoot me with a crossbow, I would die...

"As far as I'm aware, this is not what the said individual looks like," said one of the goblins, scrutinizing the younger version of my muggle father. "And you have two other live humans with you."

All around me, the goblins were waving detectors and some other artifacts.

"My appearance is explained by the public image. Very few have seen me without defenses and masking charms. And the additional life signals... You are not concerned with several extra wands, are you? These people are similarly instruments, and they are under the Draught of the Living Death. I have no intent to spy or assault Gringotts. Can I hope that slight eccentricities in my behavior will be excused and remain between us?"

In the worst case scenario, I'd leave by phoenix...

"Certainly. Our clients' secrets are none of our business and neither are wizarding wars. I assume you know we have ways to defend against legilimency. You may restore your defenses."

I hurried to do just that. Today, my horcruxes stayed in my home safe in England. An unnamed goblin escorted me to the fireplace, and I traveled to the London branch.

"I am Kragrod, the manager of your vault number 806. Would you like to withdraw gold?"

"No. I want to speak to you about my finances in private."

We walked in a conference room, and I listened, listened, listened... It seemed I found Malfoy's long-lost relatives: profitability of the real capital, profitability of core assets, profitability of personnel, profitability of liquid assets, profitability of the total assets, profitability of the invested capital, profitability of business assets, profitability of trade margins... And that was just some of the letter P. There was much more: investment turnover, interest rates, coefficient of asset growth... Between all that, I missed what my actual balance was. Good thing I asked Malfoy in advance.

The goblin handed me a stack of incomprehensible papers the size of Dumas' novel collection. I really wanted to interrupt him, but good manners required listening for a short while... An hour or two, otherwise they wouldn't understand.

I wouldn't even try dabbling in finance. At least not until winning the war.

Magical banking sounded absurd. Wizards had regular wars with goblins yet kept all valuables in their bank. What's more, goblins considered themselves permanent owners of any object they created: the artifacts "purchased" from the goblins had to be returned after the buyer's death. But everything turned out much more straightforward, as I understood from some knowledgeable people's memories.

First and foremost, the goblins were a sovereign nation not subject to the Ministry's laws. This effectively made Gringotts a giant offshore zone. Banned ingredients and artifacts? Tax Evasion? Not according to our laws! The Ministry naturally wanted to put a stop to this nuisance, and their attempts occasionally sparked goblin rebellions. But no one wanted to fight goblins in their caverns... And the goblins did not care for surface land.

Second, money meant leverage. The Ministry loved nothing more than confiscating the assets of terrorists and political enemies. But Gringotts served their customers regardless of political climate. Even during goblin rebellions, a wizard was free to withdraw money and use it against the goblins. No, the goblins were not idiots. They valued their reputation above temporary benefits and took pride in exploiting suckers within the bounds of law. What's the problem? The contract listed all the risks, it was your own fault for not reading it carefully. Natural selection at work.

By the way, to have any legal power, a contract must be written in Gobbledegook. A language with 119 tenses and 560 words referring to money...

And in return for their services, goblins received part of the investment profits and vault maintenance fees. Although, some rumors claimed that goblins collected antiques, gold and artifacts for another purpose. That they had a way to use precious metals for either producing magical energy or accumulating it... But no one knew, and the goblins kept silent. Even when gutted- Riddle checked. Maybe those grunts simply did not have the clearance?

After two hours, I decided to finally interrupt the goblin.

"Mr. Kragrod, this is wonderful. I am satisfied with your work," the goblin still showed zero emotion. "I trust Mr. Malfoy. He may continue managing my vault under the same terms. But right now I would like to discuss the incident in the Lestrange vault that occurred on October 31, 1981. Here is a letter of recommendation from Mr. Lestrange and a power of attorney in Gobbledegook."

The goblin immediately perked up and excused himself, nearly running out of the room. Soon another, much older goblin walked in.

"Do you any information about the incident? We will generously compensate you if you tell us who tried to access the vault and how. Gringotts regularly deals with robbery attempts, but it has been centuries since anyone made it out alive. In this case, we are not even sure what happened."

No hello, no introduction... but blunt honesty had its own charm.

"Unfortunately, my information is incomplete. As you know, I am leading a war in the wizarding world. The source of my information is a master occlumens and double spy Severus Snape. The Lestrange vault was attacked by Albus Dumbledore personally, with the goal of undermining the Death Eaters. He is planning to repeat this attempt some time within the next two years. Mr. Lestrange requests additional funds to be diverted to increasing the security of his family vaults."

My plan was a stroke of genius. I would turn the goblins against Albus. And he would really break into Gringotts. It was extremely easy to set up: have Severus leak that the Dark Lord hid a horcrux in the Lestranges' vault. Goblins would never surrender anything stored in their clients' vaults, not even a horcrux. Capture the vault owner and get the power of attorney through torture? Good luck passing through the "Thief's Downfall" waterfall on the way to the caverns.

"With all my respect to Mr. Lestrange, what is your proof?"

"This memory. Dumbledore broke into the Lestrange vault with the aid of a super-weapon: the Elder Wand he took from Grindelwald."

I gave him a vial with the memory of Albus telling Snape about an upcoming attack on Gringotts. No forgeries, all theater. I, under the Thousand Faces potion, played Dumbledore and laid out my plan to rob the Lestranges. Severus faithfully listened where to store the stolen items and how to assist if Dumbledore were injured in the attack. Three more Orderers were nodding along with him: Amelia Bones and Frank and Alice Longbottom (the Lestranges under the Thousand Faces potion. Easy identify with a spell, but who would cast it?). Naturally, they had all gone through Malfoy's favorite memory-erasing ritual before the performance. Any minor discrepancies were fixed by Snape's occlumency. I tested the memory in every way I could- it looked genuine. If the goblins found anything wrong, it was all Snape's fault. I had nothing to do with it.

"The memory appears to be authentic. We will increase the security measures. If your information is confirmed, you will receive a reward," the goblin concluded.

"I don't need a reward, I am capable of earning my own money. Dumbledore is my enemy, and I would be happy if he doesn't escape alive. Be careful: he is extremely powerful and merely pretends to be a harmless old man."

"A wizard refusing money? You are an unusual client."

"Yes. We need to discuss one more matter. I don't want anyone's money, I only ask that you listen to what I have to say before jumping to conclusions. I would like to request the presence of the Potter vault manager."

"As far as I know, you are not related to the Potters. Their accounts were frozen after their deaths. If no lawful claimant comes forward within three months, the will takes effect. You are not mentioned in it."

"The news of the Potters' death were premature. Allow me to demonstrate."

I opened a strong isolating artifact and took out the unconscious Lily and Harry. Healthy sleep was important. I'd return them like nothing happened.

"Even if you are holding the Potters hostage, it does not grant you the right to access their accounts," the goblin bit out coldly. They would already be trying to turn me into mincemeat for such a primitive shakedown if it weren't for returning the favor of informing them about Dumbledore's evil plot.

"I don't want the Potters' money. But you must agree that after James's death his wife and son inherit all Potter assets. The will clearly states: everything must go to Harry and Lily, in case of both of their deaths- to the Order of the Phoenix. All I ask is that the Potters' assets remain with the Potters, in accordance with James's will. Since the two surviving Potters are currently in a difficult situation and unable to access their funds, everything must be stored in Gringotts until they claim it."

"The accounts will remain frozen. Dumbledore will be sent a letter informing him that in accordance with the 1834 Act..." I started to lose my grip on reality, "...section ten of the Gringotts charter, subsection five," skipping that, "...addendum 2046, provision of magical bank operations..." I was about to nod off, "...the Potters' accounts currently have a positive balance."

Brilliant. A response that the accounts had available funds frozen by the will. Probably some other, later will they never disclosed to him. What mattered was Albus would lose the Potters' money. And I was already not poor...

"I am aware of Lily's will from her memories. The Potters' invisibility cloak is currently in Dumbledore's possession. It must be returned to Gringotts in accordance with the will. I am confident Gringotts will win the lawsuit against the thieving Headmaster. Here is Lily's notarized request to recover the cloak by any means possible."

"Persons under the Imperius, love potions, torture and most other mental influences are considered partially incapacitated. She cannot legally administer her property."

"Check this woman's forearm. Here are her and my memories. She joined me without direct mental influence and bears no traces of torture or Dark magic. She is fully competent. She is unconscious due to her insufficient occlumency skills. I hope I can expect everything I said to remain fully confidential."

Half an hour after testing unconscious Lily, the goblins turned back to me.

"We have decided to satisfy your request in accordance with Lily Potter's statement of claim. It will not be brought up in court. Your memories will be destroyed in your presence."

The vials were consumed by purple fire.

"Excellent. I am looking forward to our continuing successful cooperation. Have a wonderful day."

And that was it. I wrung everything I could out of the bank.

Less than ten minutes later, I was again standing over Ariana's body. Why do you refuse to get up? I wasted so many snakes and sacrifices... The only solace was that we at last began receiving a stream of supply from third world countries. No raids, just honest purchases from local criminals. They all had to start kicking the habit of killing without a reason.

The last option I had left to try on Ariana was a variation of the "Ancient Bones" ritual: sacrifice of a skeleton, the older the better. Magical skeletons were preferable but not necessary.

I took the easy route. Unlike Riddle, I liked muggles. There was a lot of them, and they had a lot of ideas. Tonight, I went to the London Museum of Natural History and stole all the skeletons. Even the dinosaur fossils. No one would notice: I conjured them copies with permanent transfiguration, indistinguishable from the originals save for their magic.

Tom's snake-embedding ritual caused the animated body to lose all memories, skills and magical properties. It essentially created a snake-controlled puppet... Or else I could own an unconditionally obedient population of snake people... Now I was trying to perform it on Ariana. She refused to get up as a lich, and anything less would be a colossal waste of material. If it works, I will receive a snake-controlled Ariana. And she should still be able to transform into an obedient black cloud and crush my enemies.

The dinosaur skeleton dissolved in the ritual circle. The older the better... If the muggles were to be believed, this one was over 60 million years old. Though it was a fossil rather than a proper skeleton, it should make no difference magically... The released energy rushed into the body in the other circle. The snake on top of the girl's corpse writhed a little, then stilled... It didn't work.

Use more skeletons? The dissonance from mixing multiple different energies interfered with the ritual. It felt like trying to harness a hundred horses into a single carriage- they didn't pull a hundred times heavier load, only got in each other's way. But Voldemort was extraordinary knowledgeable. I could probably get away with ten ancient skeletons, though the overall ritual strength would increase by no more than a half...

New skeletons were dissolving into the air. I had meticulously calculated everything - it shouldn't explode... If worst came to worst, I had a quick exit. The body glowed but wasn't moving. Strange.. Maybe it needed time to absorb? It was only a matter of waiting... But on second thought, I better get out of here. I quickly set up a loping command: "Get up. Do not attack" in both English and Parseltongue. The recruits could watch over my experiment. If "Ariana" began to move or show signs of consciousness, they'd call me. In the meantime, I better apparate away. Far away. Just in case.

I could finally get to one other task I'd been putting off. Albus left for an ICW conference in France, so it was a perfect time for me, Malfoy and zombie-Hagrid to visit the Forbidden Forest and forge a deal with acromantulas.

We arrived without any difficulties. There was no hiking in the woods, no running into wild creatures or centaurs spouting drivel about Mars and waiting for the tiniest excuse to shoot their charmed arrows. (I vividly remembered Riddle's excursions into the Forbidden forest as a student in search of ingredients, when one half-horse screamed something about Phobos and Deimos marking the Soulless One.) The scouts had already found the acromantula nest, so we apparated straight into the depth of the Forbidden Forest.

As the three of us walked toward the spiders' home, the webs were growing larger and denser. Now the zombie was lumbering openly. Almost immediately, we faced a small horde of spiders ranging from a human fist to a horse in size.

"Hagrid's here. I got my friends with me," the zombie repeated under my dictation.

"You never brought others here. Make them show themselves," the spider demanded.

Lucius appeared before them. I was playing hidden backup. The spider welcoming committee multiplied in size, and we got surrounded by many more horse-sized specimens.

"We are going to bring fresh meat to the honorable spiders. A lot of meat," Lucius began. "For now, please accept this small token of good will."

We pulled out a dozen of sheep and two cows from a charmed container, all unconscious. How did spiders eat? They paralyzed the prey, injected it with their stomach acid, left it wrapped in a cocoon, then drank the resulting slush... I was now witnessing it first hand. The sheep were instantly wrapped and hanged from the branches, the cows carried away deeper into the woods.

The plan was simple: they don't kill us, and we bring more food. Everything hinged on them not suspecting Hagrid. He had been soaking in potions for over a month, and the Lestranges swore the spiders wouldn't notice anything amiss.

We entered a large cave jam-packed with spiders. I tried throwing around wandless scanning charms to determine their number and locations, but to no avail. Either their web interfered with the charm or the spiders were too magically resistant.

"Aragog!" they spoke quite clearly with their chelicerae. I wonder how?

A truly giant spider spider crawled out of the far tunnel. It must have rivaled an elephant in both size and weight. Some of its many eyes were covered with cloudy film.

"Hagrid?" the monster asked.

"I remember you this teeny," Hagrid cooed under my command. "Come let me give you a hug!"

This should be well within his character.

"Fine," the spider didn't resist.

Hagrid hugged the monster's leg- not even his hands were large enough to wrap around one of them. The spider seemed to buy the switcheroo.

"I'm always happy to see you. But who is this one and why is he here? You never brought other humans here."

"Bad times have come, I tell you," Hagrid said. "The Ministry's wantin' to kill all the interesting creatures. They prepare papers to clean the forest of dangerous creatures and centaurs. You've got to run."

The news was met with ominous clicking.

"Are you sure?" Aragon hesitated. "Nobody ever bothered us here."

"Everything's real bad. They now call harmless hippogriffs dangerous, and acromantulas must be killed off," Hagrid continued stringing them along.

"Where can we go?" Aragog asked with extreme skepticism.

"My new friends will give you a place to live."

"You are not Hagrid. Hagrid would never go against Dumbledore. He would defend us. And most importantly, these friends are servants the one who caused you to be thrown out of Hogwarts and made us come here. Who are you and where is Hagrid?"

The spider's clicking turned menacing. In a blink, they snatched zombie-Hagrid and wrapped him in spiderweb. Several attacked Malfoy. His defensive charms held for a moment, but he quickly succumbed to a spit of paralyzing poison and was strung up in a cocoon. Magical shields worked against magical creatures just as badly as they did against charmed weapons... Malfoy didn't even even get a chance to cast anything. Of course, the spiders never noticed me floating just under the ceiling.

Not the best start.. Well, at least we got in without a fight. Switching to plan B, viva la revolucion...

The Killing Curse may not take down a large acromantula, but my arsenal was much more varied. The cave filled with my voice coming from every direction.

"I'll sic a basilisk on you."

The cave descended into pure chaos. The spiders darted around in blind panic. A burst of Twilight Flame swallowed Aragog. Fiendfyre blocked all exits. Several spiders burned. I removed my masking charms and was burning the spits of poison and web before they could reach me- not terribly difficult under acceleration and enhanced perception potions. When some spiders rushed me from the walls, Arania Exumae calmed them down forever. The repeating recording "I am the master of the Basilisk" was keeping the majority in helpless frenzy. But I had neither desire nor power to fight the entire nest.

"Join me. I will allow you to hunt muggles and wizards. You will receive as much meat as you desire. No restrictions on breeding. If you refuse, I will feed you to the basilisk, and leave the rest to be killed by the Aurors."

Pure propaganda. I had yet to reach the basilisk. The Aurors had a lot on their plate, and who would think to look for Southeast Asian creatures in Scotland? But the spiders definitely felt the basilisk nearby and knew I was a parselmouth. If they did not concede, I'd have to call Nagini to bail me out.

"Aragog!" came a piercing scream from the same tunnel. The spider that ran out of it was almost as huge as their late leader.

I threw a Liquid Darkness at the creature, and the huge splotch of inky substance began dissolving it. The spider screamed and tried to get the "ink" off with its legs, but they too dissolved on contact. This one must be brimming with magic! The curse usually dissolved flesh instantly, and the spider was still twitching... But it did a good job at demonstrating my point: anyone who defies us gets burned or dissolved.

"Who is ready to join my side?" I asked, dispelling the repeating sound of the word "Basilisk."

"I am Morgul," one of the spiders stepped forward. "After the deaths of Aragog and Mosag, I am the largest. Are you really the one who controlled the Horror all those years ago?"

"Yes."

"We cannot attack the castle, the Horror lives there," Morgul informed me.

"And you don't need to. There are many other interesting places in Britain."

"We are ready to join you if you feed us and give us prey to hunt."

"Wonderful. Remember: if you betray me, the Horror will come after you. Loyal service will earn you food. By the way, my servant in the cocoon here is metely unconscious, right?"

"Yes, it is a paralyzing poison. Other ones spoil the taste."

"I'm taking him with me. Gather your nest, Morgul," I said as I was putting out the cursed fire at the exits. "You are moving. Do not eat or attack my people. If you have any questions, ask for Macnair on the other side."

While Morgul was explaining something to his tribe (and, as my olfactory defense suggested, releasing pheromones), I was preparing their transport. Two logs covered in runes got hammered into the ground six yards apart, creating the entrance side of the portal. The other, much larger part of the construct had been built on a piece of land Malfoy leased from Avery. The territory was already covered with all the necessary charms, stored a supply of cattle and had a team waiting to receive the spiders.

I set up two charged accumulator stones on top of the logs and activated the portal. The space between the "pillars" rippled like a water reflection.

"My people are waiting for you on the other side. Do not attack anyone. You can eat the cows and sheep. Do not cross the marked borders. If you wish to get out or hunt, you will be accepted into an assault team and given a target. Remember: with us you are hunters, without us you are prey. Treachery is punished by the slithering horror and death."

One by one, the acromantulas started to disappear into the portal. It looked simple enough, but the wizards on the other side must have struggled to keep the portal stable. Every transported beast drained energy proportional to its mass, magical power and travel distance. It was going to be fine- they had plenty of manpower and accumulator stones. And as a last resort, they could always kill some prisoners or animals (unlike a proper ritual, charging a portal worked with any energy source). We now had muggles deliver us cattle from Argentina through a shell company. They were very confused why anyone would need so much live cattle...

I cast a charm to count the number of transports. Hundreds of large specimens ready for battle. And some were dragging eggs the size of a basketball that should hatch in eight weeks. How fast would they grow if we helped them along? The spiders even rolled up some of the web and took it with them...

"Master, can we eat the one who was Hagrid?" Morgul asked.

Apparently, the new generation didn't feel much parity with Hagrid. The zombie could still be useful... For example, murder someone before Skeeter's eyes. He may not have magic, but a half-giant killing humans with a single punch and proceeding to eat them... Behold the true face of the Order of the Phoenix!

"Do not kill, eat or attack any of my servants. I'm taking him with me as well."

The last acromantula stepped through the portal four hours later- we spent a long time waiting for their scouts and hunters. Some surely got left behind, but they were now literally and figuratively useless leftovers. I took apart the portal. Macnair called through the two-way mirror and reported that they had no problems on their end.

We never risked drawing attention- the Forbidden Forest radiated so much magic it could hide Hogwarts. And Albus was far away. Still, I cleaned up my traces before leaving by phoenix.

I had Nagini take me to one of our secret bases (nothing more than a room with food and first aid sealed inside a mountain) and started fixing Malfoy. I was more of a killing and poison specialist, but my spells and Snape's potions eventually brought Malfoy back to consciousness.

"My Lord, where am I?" he slurred, getting up from the bed. "The last thing I remember is being attacked by acromantulas. Did the negotiations fail?"

"We are at the base 54/86A. I saved you and swayed the acromantulas to my side. They are currently settling in on the land you provided. Macnair says everything is under control."

"My Lord, I didn't have time to tell them anything..."

Of course not. They surrounded you, and you didn't have a wand in hand. I wouldn't be able to say anything either. That was why you went first.

"Make sure your service is beyond reproach from now on."

"My Lord, acromantula venom gathered from a live specimen sells for over a hundred galleon per vial. Their web is also valuable. May I request you to come with me and order the spiders to let the workers approach them for collection?"

Money was all he ever thought about...

"Yes. But first, we discuss how we are going to divide the profits."

* * *

Avery was drawing runes in the dirt and thinking. He recently returned from an important mission: a trip through hard to reach areas in search of giants for the Dark Lord. The war showed no signs of ending, and giants were becoming difficult to find. And since Macnair had both work and "work" at the Ministry, it fell on Avery to trek across the globe and negotiate with fleshbags who chewed on train rails.

He returned with a new batch shortly after the New Year. Now he was wondering why the Dark Lord's disfavor befell him, out of everyone. He would rather be cruciated...

"Avery, draw faster. I'm going to go check on the diggers," Jugson said on the way out.

The Dark Lord's plans always had a certain... scale. And it was regular people like him who paid the price. The Lord ordered to prepare for an assault of Crouch's manor. And they were duly preparing. Some were charming golems, some were gathering materials, some were weeping over family savings...

The two most important parts of any operation were delivering their forces to the target and securing the elites' retreat. Edward Lestrange, Yaxley and Rowle were drawing a single-use portal circle next to the Lestranges' manor. He and Jugson were drawing its smaller counterpart under Crouch's. They had created a system of caverns two miles under the house, well below the ward edge. Sure, they had a couple dozen house elves and over fifty digging golems, but the brunt of the work still fell on the two of them. The Dark Lord was generous enough to provide accumulator stones, but the stones couldn't help with drawing. So he drew...

They were not even allowed to use sacrifices! Noo, go and charge it all by hand so the Ministry wouldn't sniff it out. And creating the portals was not even a half of it: they also had to conceal everything, prepare interferences against the enemy soldiers' arrival within a given time frame, and set up a healing ritual for Crouch's wife in the upper cavern...

He finally finished the next pattern, and they both charged the runes for what felt like forever. The brightly glowing accumulators gradually dimmed and depleted. Well, the house elves would bring more soon, they just needed a good kick every so often.

"Kids today aren't what they used to be," Jugson began. "Have you heard, Rabastan Lestrange apparently has tutors in every subject except Dark magic? They say his Hogwarts diploma is forged."

"Don't know," Avery shrugged. "My son joined the Death Eaters and is doing fine. Though, he almost got caught for an illegal spell back in Hogwarts."

Actually, Jugson was right. It took a special brand of stupid to try to rape that girl at school, right under Dumbledore's nose... They were lucky to frame it as a mean prank... And it was not only his son who wasn't right in the head. Malfoy was a genius of finance, and his son... a moron. Avery managed to palm a useless plot of land off to Lucius under a long-term lease. The funniest part was that the lease restricted the land's use to "breeding of silkworms or their analogues."

They continued the idle banter about how back in their day giants were larger, manticores meaner, pixies brighter, women bustier...

And then they received an urgent message. The Lord issued a new order: they must change the local water level to create a pond at the surface during the assault. They were granted reinforcements consisting of Crabbe, Goyle and Rabastan Lestrange. The latter was the only one proficient with charms to draw water towards the surface.

To say that the order was strange would be an understatement of the year. They needed help finishing their current work but instead got loaded with a whole new task mere days before the battle!

Their reinforcements arrived a few minutes later, apparating into the runic circle in quick succession. After exchanging routine greetings and pleasantries, everyone got to work.

"Rabastan, what happened? Why does the Lord suddenly need a pond next to the Crouch's manor? I remember him calling Rookwood's swimming golem idea premature."

Without getting distracted from some Japanese-style charms, Lestrange explained:

"The pond near our manor has a new tenant. When my Care for Magical Creatures tutor saw it, he turned around and left. We later received his request for the remainder of his payment by owl. I couldn't exactly understand what he muttered as he was walking off, but it was something about "batshit crazy Brits."


	29. Last Preparations and a Horntail

The preparations for the removal of Crouch were nearing completion.

What did I hope to achieve? Crouch fired from his post, and it must look like Dumbledore attempted an armed coup while I rushed to my servant's aid. This would simultaneously smear my opponents, increase chaos and allow me to legally free my people who were incarcerated on Crouch's words alone. And my stunt would prove I still outclassed "Elena." I must occasionally be seen in the limelight...

What to do with Crouch Sr? Riddle's memories encouraged killing everyone. But he could be of use alive. I was just thinking about the ingredients for the "Flesh, bone, blood" ritual. Blood of the enemy... Moody or Dumbledore.. Either one was a pipe dream. On the other hand, Crouch Sr. was a perfectly reachable and worthy enemy.

Crouch's wife... I did not know much about her magic skills, but I'll find a use for her as well. Try to convert her. Or marry her off to a neutral family like the Greengrasses or Bullstrodes. Or have her teach at Hogwarts after the victory and McGonagall's tragic accident. I was not a idiot to leave Dumbledore's team in charge of Dumbledore's sympathizers. It would only result in a revolt. And while Death Eaters had many merits, I would not entrust them someone else's children, especially children of questionable blood status.

Persuading her will not be difficult: I saved you in exchange for your husband saving Elena. Your grieving son became a Death Eater to avenge his father's death. It was all about the right delivery. None of that "join or die." Your entire family supported me all along, they lied to you for your own safety... You are against me? No problem. Go slice your son's throat and surrender to Azkaban- you reek of more Dark magic than any live bomb. I prepared her healing ritual in two locations for that very reason. If Albus should, by some fluke, refuse to fight Crouch, a Dark ritual under the manor would provoke them into action.

I had more than sufficient means to achieve these goals.

The soldiers and golems stood at the ready, and the acromantulas made a welcome addition.

Nessie turned out to be very malicious, moving must have affected her badly. I only just managed to calm my snake down and convince her to settle in the pond. She has been nagging me about wanting to kill someone. Entirely too aggressive... Or was it instincts driving her to hunt? In any case, she will join the assault. She should make a fine "Slytherin's monster" on the battlefield. I only had to find a way to protect her eyes and stone...

Project "Ariana" ended in a partial success: the finally arisen snake in a girl's body may not have access to magic, but it could transform into a cloud and crush targets as ordered. Nothing tactically sophisticated, just a metaphorical cudgel to break the enemy defense line. Rookwood and I recorded all of the cloud's parameters, such as the charge of its magic field, the rotation of energy flow, the gradient of dispersion... Maybe one day it could be made into a spell.

The only question that bothered me was Albus's neutralization. While Macnair's team deals with the phoenix and the rest of my army trashes the Orderers and Crouch's operatives, I must keep the old man busy.

Plan A was a mental battle. I had no delusions of winning. I planned to show him nightmares and emphasize the similarities between us to stall for time. It would be great if we snatched Aberforth- he must have some choice memories of his brother.. Most importantly, I must keep the old man out of my own secrets. But my recent sessions with the Mirror of Erised proved I already learned to perfectly change some details with Snape's method. I should be able to localize the failure (if it indeed happened) and shift the accents to change the meaning of the memory to its complete opposite.

And then there was plan B: fighting Dumbledore with all I had, playing on the defensive. He won't notice my weakened Dark magic. This fight would be nothing like Diagon: I knew the place, I knew the time... Some Dark rituals could grant a tremendous short-term advantage if you knew exactly what you need and when... Gather a large pool of power and let it out at the right moment. Of course, there was the question of price... But who said you must always pay it yourself? Some of the sacrifices would go towards temporary enhancement, the rest towards neutralizing and minimizing the rebound. Not many rituals allowed it, but preparing in advance gave me the luxury of being picky. In the end, I should at the very least match the original Lord's Dark Magic.

I found an assistant: Rosier. He was already walking on his own and using bits of magic here and there with completely functional arms, though the burn on his right will never fade. He got off too easy. Not yet fit for the battlefield, but he was more than capable of helping me conduct rituals and prepare the sacrifices under my supervision. If Rosier managed to enter the duel under several rituals, he could definitely give me a boost without needing to disguise it. By the way, I better pick up some more artifacts... And potions, only this time not combine everything under the sun.

A little bit of pain motivated Ollivander to create a fake shell for my wand with Nagini's scale. It now resembled a human fibula. It will last through the fight, and not even Moody's eye would see Elena's wand inside. And Albus would assume I was on a quest for a better wand.

But there was one task I had to do all on my own: bathe in the blood of a dragon I killed in a fair fight...

A bribe to the head manager of the Romanian dragon preserve convinced him that one of their Hungarian Horntails never existed. He offered to gift-wrap and deliver it anywhere we wished, but I insisted on a one to one fight right there in Romania. The manager wisely decided that for that much money we were free to do anything we wanted. He warned that he bears no responsibility for the wounds we were bound to receive and scheduled us a date with the dragon.

I took half a dozen of the Inner Circle to Romania by portkey. Our escort pointed out the dragon from afar and scurried away.

It was time. The Death Eaters stepped aside and began covering the area with charms. Their only task was to prevent anyone from interfering with my fight.

No, I was not coming down with an acute case of chivalry. The best defensive effects required a "fair fight". Seven on one was not fair, one on one was. I needed the full protective qualities of dragon blood to fight Albus... Between a fair fight against a Horntail and a fair fight against Albus, I would choose the Horntail any day, without a moment's hesitation.

I left the Death Eaters behind. A concealment ward rose up and was softly glowing in magical sight. The manager vowed he made the area maximally unnoticeable, but one could never be too invisible...

On the cliff ahead sat the Horntail. Big money - big dragon. It looked like a massive black lizard with yellow eyes, reddish-brown spikes on its head and tail. Twenty meters long not counting the tail... The largest and most dangerous European breed. Aggressive. Could spit ordinary fire or charmed fire at will. Ate any meat it could catch, including humans. And it was sitting on a nest formed by a dent in the rock.

If anyone told me two months ago I would voluntarily face off against a dragon, I would have laughed to myself.

I saw a myriad of ways this fight could go.

Sadly, the Unforgivables won't help. They affected people and creatures whose energy system at least somewhat resembled human.

Transfiguration. I was not Albus, and it was far from my specialty, but I could easily transfigure myself into something quick and agile. Transfiguring a dragon was impossible. Well, technically possible, but if would take multiple Merlins for a beast this large and saturated with magic. Unfortunately, self-transfiguration did not count as "fair." And neither did potions. After some thinking, I decided to limit myself to a wand and self-enhancement charms that did not change the body: acceleration and improved perception.

I could use something highly lethal like Fiendfyre, Twilight Flame or Well of Darkness... And dump in extra energy to be sure... But there won't be anything left of the dragon, and I came here for trophies.

Despite their might, dragons were susceptible to some simple sleeping charms. Dragon tamers typically used five-six simultaneous attacks to knock out their charges. I could replace five or six dragon tamers on my own and knew the spells. Then the patient would never wake up from anesthesia. The problem was, killing a sleeping enemy was hardly "fair."

Personally, I would have gone with cursing the eyes and cutting or burning the wings, then simply staying outside its range of attack: spells against claws, horns and fire. Whenever the beast lost its strength, finish it off with a couple of Dragonhunter's spears or something similar. Victory would be in my pocket with no more risk than executing a tied up prisoner... Except, it would not be fair.

Fair meant approaching it head on and deflecting the flames and tail... And a highly magical creature would damage my defensive charms with every hit, if not completely go through them. Therefore, I duplicated all the charms and did not intend to relax my guard.

I requested a female: larger body meant more blood. The dragon watched me from a hundred yards away and did not attack. It was sitting on eggs. They will be very useful, I just recently talked to Macnair about breeding experimental chimeras... Taking the eggs would anger it. Let's consider it a challenge to a duel.

I raised my wand. Summoning charms may not work on dragon eggs, but they were sitting atop a mundane rock. The eggs fell through a tunnel that appeared under the nest. I covered them with dirt like a second shell and used a summoning charm on that. All five eggs obediently flew to me though the tunnel and disappeared in an expanded container. Be proud, mother dragon: your children will serve the Dark Lord. Though I cannot guarantee they will be the same species after we are done with them.

The dragon roared, spread its wings and charged straight at me.

Since we were having a fair fight, I decided to let it have the first blow. I simply stood my ground under the strongest shields I knew.

The multiton beast crossed the distance in a blink and crashed against my barrier. The barrier held up, only sparked pitifully. The dragon started blowing out flames at me from less than ten feet away. The power it took must have been enormous, the flame rivaled Fiendfyre. But my charms endured.

It was my turn to attack. The beast voluntarily gave me an opening, standing there open-mouthed: the scales inside were much weaker.

Pouring in an excess of energy, I sent two Dragonhunter's Spears into its mouth. A top-notch throw- the spells flew in a an arc. One pierced the palate, struck the brain and flew out through the top of the head. The other spear hit lower, shattering the spine just under the skull. They were instantly followed by wandless Twilight Flame. A splotch of concentrated charmed fire entered the skull and instantly burned out the brain.

That single moment cost me a third of reserve. A wandless Twilight Flame alone was an exorbitant level, and I cast it while simultaneously throwing two spears and holding off dragon fire...

I wish the beast could die this easily. But dragons were ideal politicians: they did not really need a brain to function. In addition to a central brain in the skull, they had a highly developed spinal cord as a backup. Losing either one was not critical. Yes, dragons were incredibly durable. If you cut off its head, it may not notice right away. Like a cockroach.

The dragon wheezed, shut its mouth and jumped back. It took losing the brain for the beast to understand that opening its mouth was a bad idea. It charged at me again, this time with claws. I should have dodged them with banal levitation. But we were having a fair fight...

It squeezed me in a vice grip, the claws damaging some of my shields. Magic was rapidly depleting. It brought back the memories of getting crushed by dirt during the French base assault. This time was worse.

I counterattacked with a ramming charm at the dragon's chest. It would have had no effect, but I also conjured ice under its feet. The dragon lost its hold and spun like a top. A Dark cutting curse that followed left its wings hanging like dead rags.

I hoped the animal would go into shock from the pain. But it not only pulled itself up, it also managed to hit me with the horned tail. A number of my shields dissipated, and I flew backwards like a kicked ball. I landed with the shock absorbing charm, fighting the urge to fly up and finish the creature off. I had to keep giving it chances to attack.

Without destroying the dragon's entire body, only damaging its heart guaranteed death. Unfortunately, its heart sat deep within the body under effectively unbreakable bone plates. The only access point was the main artery, but even it was hidden behind several feet of muscle.

I could destroy its senses. But first of all, how fair was that? And seconds, dragons sensed magic with some unknown mechanism. It would sense me as long as it lived.

I could vanish the air around it, but a dragon would survive without air long enough to continue the fight.

I could resort to blood magic, but I really hated the process of acquiring the main ingredient and being unable to block the pain... Apparently it was time to grit my teeth and do it...

A cut on my left arm sprung up a blood wall in front of me not a moment too soon. I hoped the Horntail would meet the same fate as a car in a crash test. Fate had other plans. The dragon indeed crashed into my shield at full speed, but the blood spikes caused it no harm. It actually looked like the impact popped its spinal brains back in place.

After a second of stupor, the dragon remembered it too had magic. It again breathed out a jet of flame at me point-blank. But unlike last time, this much more potent flame vaporized most of the ground below me and threatened to destroy my defenses.

Trying to cut off its head was futile. Even if I somehow succeeded in cutting through layers of tough skin, muscle and bone, the dragon would continue hitting me with claws. And breaking its spine would mean torturing a paralyzed patient instead of winning a fair fight.

But there was always one last universal solution: an attack from the inside. The dragon now had enough wounds for me to reach its bloodstream.

Tom had plenty of experience wrangling his own and enemy Fiendfyre. With a monumental effort, I redirected the dragon's fire to the side. It was my turn to attack. A modified blood spell forced several cups of my blood into the wounds on its head and chest. And the rest was simple: blood was magic, and own blood could be controlled even in a dragon's body. At least if you were a Dark Lord.

My blood rushed through all of the beast's veins at mad speed. Regardless of their might, dragons were living creatures whose life followed laws of nature. Rupturing its organs would waste valuable trophies, so I found an even simpler solution: my blood cut the vessels from the inside. Yes, dragons were extraordinary resilient. But when all its vessels burst in under two seconds and the organs began to asphyxiate without blood... It remained the same heavily armed tank, only without ammunition, fuel or crew.

The flames died first. Then the nostrils stopped blowing smoke. The beast slammed into my blood shield in one last desperate attack and fell on its side with glazed eyes. In magical sight, the glow around it began to dull. And the best part was that nearly all its blood remained inside the body cavity.

After making sure the dragon was dead, I signaled my Death Eaters to come.

"Your skill is truly great, my Lord," Amicus Carrow groveled. "If you allow, we will show the memories of your fight to new recruits. I'm certain your reputation will rise sky high."

Yes, killing a dragon alone was impressive. Especially while purposefully allowing it to land hits. It would be best if no one saw the part where it launched me into the air with its tail... Although, we could use it to promote Dark magic: as soon as the Lord used blood magic, the dragon fell dead at his feet. The key was not being a Dark Lord, the key was blood magic. Join our ranks, and you can do the same!

"Later," I answered. "Start unpacking the golems and butchering the body. It should yield around 300 liters of blood, and one human only needs two to three per application. I believe we will soon hear rumors that the Inner Circle is invincible."

I was in no position to lose soldiers and would generously share. Dumbledore was in for a surprise.

They will manage the butchering without me and bring it to England in chunks. Every single part of a dragon was valuable. I was mostly interested in the blood and skeleton. I'd rather avoid fighting personally, and an undead dragon would be a great way to bolster my forces. Creatures lost their magic in death, but I was not in a rush. At worst, I would wait until I acquired the memories of an expert necromancy consultant- Grindelwald.

My servants started skinning the dragon, and I returned to the Lestranges. I had to catch up on paperwork. The latest newspaper read:

 ** _Head of Magical Games and Sports Mysteriously Murdered_**

 _Benedict Formann, the Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports, passed away on January 27th from unknown causes. No official statement has been released, but the investigators suspect an novel curse. On the last day of his life, the victim was haunted by extreme bad luck. In the morning, Mr. Formann received a package with experimental fireworks. The explosion left him with extensive burns. The colleague who helped Mr. Formann put out the fire accidentally splashed him with boiling water, exacerbating his injuries. Mr. Formann was taken to St. Mungo's, where healers quickly returned him to health. On_ _Mr. Formann's trip_ _back to his office, a loose brick from the floo fell on his head. The minor concussion was treated with first aid, and Mr. Formann went back to work. Later that day, he went to testify in the case of the quidditch team accused of severe breach of the Statute and broke his leg on the way to the courtroom. After a mediwizard healed the fracture, Mr. Formann was sent home where he died shortly thereafter. The Ministry announced his successor to be Ludo Bagman..."_

Wonderful, absolutely wonderful. Bagman had as much brains as a bludger. He will eat out of the hand of his father's friend Rookwood. And any test would prove Ludo Bagman was not a Death Eater. Using people in the dark was so appealing...The Department of Games and Sports was no DMLE, but it still meant international contacts, public events, prospective leads...

Benedict Formann has been running from death for a long time. The solution turned out unprecedentedly simple. All we had to do was drug him with Felix Felicis. He defended against poisons extremely well, but the luck potion completely bypassed his system of identifying harmful substances. Of course, the potion did not kill him. He had done it himself.

Benedict did not discriminate by blood status and was a good employee. He only had one vice: gambling. Everyone looked the other way because he gambled with his own money and on his own time. When bets involved large sums, the participants were checked for Felix Felicis, usually with an advance vow. After work, he went to the goblins to bet. And died soon after. Almost certainly from breaking a vow.

The beauty lied in the fact that we sent the Aurors on a false trail. They were now searching for a new fancy curse or multiple cases of sabotage. A delivery mix-up caused an explosion? The Death Eaters did it. Another employee burned him with boiling water? Must be a Death Eater. A brick fell on his head? The Death Eaters built in traps, check all fireplaces right away. Broke his leg on a staircase? Cursed staircase, check every step in the building. In reality, Felix Felicis was simply trying to stop him from betting that day. But Benedict was too stubborn...

I put away the newspaper and invited in Severus, who just arrived.

"It is time for you to go Dumbledore. Do you remember what you must tell him?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"Do you want to ask me something?"

"My Lord... Lately... "Elena" has changed. She is becoming much better at certain magic types. I can barely block her Sectusempras. Some spells she used to cast without problems stopped working for her. She spends inordinate amount of time in the Lestranges' library researching something. Some of those books... they contain very dangerous knowledge. And Edward watches her with a strange look. He asked Rabastan his opinion on blondes. Also, Malfoy asked me to pass a letter to Elena. Here it is. I have not opened it and do not know what this is about."

Very interesting. The Lestranges were searching for a woman to add to the family? Despite all the advantages of Elena's image, no family would want someone whose loyalty belonged solely to the Lord. But for the Lestranges, it was a benefit. Edward or Rabastan? A woman with high potential matched either one, no wonder Severus looked nervous. And the Lestranges needed an heir...

"I don't plan on marrying her off to anyone. She can decide what to do with her personal life on her own."

I still felt nothing, but Snape must have calmed down. How I hated that my legilimency was powerless against him... Hopefully, he had no idea. And Dumbledore won't be able to unmask him, either.

Once diagnostic charms showed Malfoy's letter was clean, I opened and read it. In short: let's meet and discuss a business opportunity. Some vague hints about a job. Knowing Lucius, it was really business and not a thinly veiled date invitation. An I would have to waste my own time on this... Lily would surely blurt out something stupid, letting Malfoy catch her on a contradiction. Fine. Hopefully he will propose an assassination contract or human trafficking. Because if he offers sex, he would get a Crucio.

"Lucius is offering some sort of joint business venture. Most likely illegal trade or assassinating competition. I will keep you updated."

As if I did not have enough problems without dealing with this Romeo...

Lily had to be looking for information on horcruxes. I've scoured through the entire library, and the Lestranges never hid anything from me. There was nothing to find. Tom thought himself smarter than everyone else, but I accepted that someone might have books on horcruxes. Who? The most obvious option was Dumbledore. There used to be a book in the Restricted Section, and now it was gone. The old man must have confiscated or destroyed it. Second option: the Blacks. They were indisputably the darkest family in England. Beyond that... I did not know. Maybe I should check Rosier? There may be more to his mass sacrifice hobby and volunteering as a camp gauleiter than met the eye. Although, he could not have fathered children with a horcrux... But I will find a way to test him.

Funny how things turned out: Lily was reading very illegal books to understand what we dug up at the cemetery. Or to catch me on a lie. She was still far from accepting Dark magic, but the first steps had been made. This, along with the Diagon fight, also explained Bellatrix's latest studying craze. Knowing she had no way to dispose of the new "competition" without provoking my... displeasure, Bella dived into books and training with fervor bordering on mania... Little did she know Lily would never hold a candle to her. In the end, everyone was busy training and reading good literature without needing to be ordered. I wish it was always like this...

"I am concerned with her interest in Dark magic," Severus continued. "I have been practicing since Hogwarts and always had friends to spot me if anything went wrong. She might accidentally do something dangerous. I learned that the blood whip has a habit of choking its caster if the spell is performed incorrectly."

"Supervise her training, then. Think of a way to excuse your absences before Dumbledore. When you are not present, have her stick with Protego and stunners."

"My Lord, is it true that Dumbledore has the Elder Wand?"

"I have no direct evidence. He was searching for it in his youth and befriended Grindelwald, who was doing the same. Grindelwald had always been powerful, but he only started a war when he came in possession of a wand that looked identical to the one Dumbledore uses now. Dumbledore has a wand that looks just like Grindelwald's, and it was first seen in his hand right after he defeated Grindelwald. Be very careful, Severus."

"My Lord... Does the Order of Death really exist?"

"Again, I don't have any direct evidence. But Flamel acquired his Stone at the exact time millions of Europeans died from the Black Death. His goals and ideals are unknown, how he and Dumbledore met is a mystery. And look through these documents."

A wave of my hand sent papers flying out of the desk.

"Dumbledore's father was sentenced to a life in Azkaban. During his trial, he ranted that he hated all muggles. Dumbledore's mother and sister both died young, and there was no postmortem exam performed on either. His mother was killed by an unknown Dark curse and his sister by Avada Kedavra. No one was punished. At the funeral, Aberforth broke Dumbledore's nose, screaming "it is all your fault!" Immediately after Ariana's death, Grindelwald left and started avoiding Dumbledore like the plague," I recited, levitating a pensieve and vials with witness memories towards Snape. "Watch this, Severus. This does not look like a Light wizard."

Severus watched the memories and returned from the pensieve silent. No lies. Deceive yourself all on your own. Hopefully, it gave him a lot to contemplate.

"May leave for Hogwarts now, my Lord?"

"Of course. You only need traces of my displeasure with your failure to heal Elena. Crucio!"

After Severus stumbled off, I worked a bit and went home.

"Welcome back, Master. Gaby cooked you dinner and will take off your boots."

I sat in an armchair, rolled down my defenses and watched the house elf work. He levitated me to the dining room with the chair and landed it in front of the table.

"Master, is Gaby allowed to speak freely?"

"Yes, speak..." I answered without looking away from the dinner.

Shut the elf up? What's the point? This way I always knew what they were thinking because they just said it out loud.

"Gaby really wants to tend to Master's children," the house elf declared.

Some request! I have completely spoiled them. If he said that to Tom, he would already be screaming under Cruciatus. No one orders Lord Voldemort!

I probably had something of him in me. But not his hubris. If I must kill for immortality, I would kill. Though I would prefer picking flowers- they multiplied faster and did not defend themselves. If I had to kill house elves- I would kill house elves. Using house elves as sacrifice was a waste: no ritual specifically required them, and muggles were more numerous and efficient. Killing house elves did not grant you their abilities. In any scenario, house elves were more useful alive than dead.

I could torture the house elf or keep him under Imperius. But why kick a mule when it was ready to give its best for a carrot?

The end goal was for no one to consider me a Dark Lord. It won't work with this generation, but I did not plan on dying. For now, I could use the practice. Refine a method for converting muggleborns on Lily. Convince my house elf I was a good guy.

Did it make sense to bother with a house elf? Tom's memories categorically said no. I disagreed: he got the Hufflepuff Cup thanks to an elf! Tony and Gaby did not cost me anything, and they have been incredibly useful. They stole Lily's old wand (I told her the wand burned in her subconsciousness when we were removing her compulsions, and she believed me). They knocked Lily out and helped transport her to Gringotts, dug up Dumbledore's relatives... Gaby taught me household charms, took care of my house and my "horcruxes" the few times I left them here, took care of Nagini, killed two wizards when we were procuring Lily's wand. They pulled me out of Mungo's after the battle in Diagon. They knew the secret of the Dark Lord's student and were searching for the Tonkses...

If anything, they were honorary Death Eaters, the most trusted of them all! More useful than half of the Inner Circle!

I would not get far trying to gather recruits with cries of "Grindelwald was too kind! Bring back concentration camps! Let necromancers take the streets! Oh, how I love the smell of burning flesh in the morning! Torture and kill indiscriminately, our own people included! Choose sacrifices through lottery and rid England of unlucky losers!"

It would be almost as stupid as greeting a date with "I'm horny, you happened to come by. Let's fuck?" The correct approach is "you are special."

Many would follow me for a promise of longevity- no one liked the idea of dying. And sacrifices... We are actively searching for ways to substitute sheep for humans. This is temporary. Our goal is long, healthy life for everyone. Are you saying you are against medicine?

Why Crucio a house elf? To what end? So he spits in my soup? So I have to constantly keep him under Imperius? Yes, the elf could not disobey my direct orders. But there was quite a gap between an order and its fulfillment. Say, I told him to go to the Lestranges. And he walked there on foot. Sure, I would kill him for it later, but the order has already been failed.

Following this path, it would be all too easy to end up like Xerxies I, who ordered his soldiers to whip the sea to punish it for destroying his bridge...

Torturing everyone is not power. It is thuggery. Power is having everyone believe you act in their interests. And for that, they fulfill your requests... I would promise everyone their dream. Harry's life to Lily. Lily's life to Severus. Searching for the Sorcerer's Stone and exterminating degenerates to the Death Eaters. A home and a family to serve to every house elf. A pond and food to Nessie. A better Hogwarts curriculum to mudbloods, I mean muggleborns. More magic! Ball lightnings in class! Tales of bloody battles in History of Magic, make the class feel like going to the movies! Faster quidditch brooms, introduce competitive broom racing! Rights and freedoms for werewolves. Hunting grounds and safety from the Aurors for acromantulas. Expanded diet for dementors.

Whereas in reality, I amass power for myself and my army.

Of course, I would not get far without torture and killing. But punishment and reward must match the deed. My people must know the rules of the game, know what is expected of them.

I will keep in mind that if I ever had children, I could dump them on the house elf.

"I am too busy to deal with women. I met one today... Looked like a Horntail."

"Why, that ugly?" the house elf bulged his eyes.

"No."

"That big?"

"No. It was just a Horntail."


	30. Through Albus's Eyes: Snape's Return

"And what did Lord Voldemort say? Any information on the size of the organization? Resources? Bases? Identities of Death Eaters?"

Albus Dumbledore sat in his chair in the Headmaster's office, listening to the report of his wayward spy. Was all this a plot to mock and taunt him? He wandlessly checked himself for intoxication, hallucinations, overall sanity...Having confirmed he was fine, Albus started checking Severus. Because what he was hearing could not be real.

"The Dark Lord announced that you have the Elder Wand," Severus said. This was the only valuable piece of information. The rest qualified anyone for a one-way trip to St. Mungo's. "You are also a Dark wizard who murdered your own family and conspired with Grindelwald..."

Albus choked on his candy. No, he already knew Tom was spreading rumors about his wand. But this... Has Tom finally lost it? Made more horcruxes, and they addled his brain? In what world would anyone believe this? And horribly, legilimency confirmed it was all true. He could've pushed against Severus's mind harder, but that guaranteed to leave one of them a vegetable. And the truth serum... Severus was exceptionally talented: he has been brewing and taking a personalized antidote based on his own blood since his seventh year of Hogwarts. The solution would take months to purge from the body, leaving him exposed before Tom...

"... a gay pedophile, son of a muggle hater, and a Magister of the Order of Death. Your teacher Flamel is actually a 666-year old lich who dwells in the catacombs under Solomon's temple in Israel," Snape continued.

Albus choked on a second piece of candy and coughed. Merlin, what's next? Tom gathered the Death Eaters for a raid on the London Zoo to torture mudblood elephants?

"Severus, I must interrupt. Can you tell me anything backed by facts?" Albus did not bother hiding the hope in his voice. Did Tom go too far with the Cruciatus and broke Severus's mind? Or Severus turned? But his vows were in place, and he'd never forgive Lily's murderer...

"The Dark Lord is conducting gruesome experiments and rituals."

"That much is obvious, Severus. Can you tell me the details?"

"You know I am under a number of charms analogous to the ones you placed on me. They make me physically unable to tell you most of what I know."

"Are you saying that your month and a half long absence brought absolutely no results? What were you even doing all this time?"

"Brewing healing potions and receiving Crucios. Participating in ritual preparation."

"Details, Severus."

"The Dark Lord's student returned in near death condition from potion intoxication and magical exhaustion. As a potions master, I was ordered to get her back on her feet. I sabotaged as much as I could. She will recover, but it is going to take a very long time. She poses no threat to anyone in the foreseeable future."

"Severus... Crouch personally assured me she was dead."

"I don't know who assured you of what, but she is alive, though in terrible shape. I can provide the memories."

"Yes, please do that before you leave. I will watch them later. But are you absolutely certain? More than 20 Aurors died that day. Was it definitely Elena and not Voldemort in disguise?"

"I am certain. I saw them both at the same time. It could not have been a Time-Turner: Elena has potion intoxication and magical exhaustion while the Lord exudes power and health."

"Bad... Have you learned who she is to him? Lover, daughter?"

"No. No one knows anything. But I learned that the Lord is preparing to conduct the ritual of blocking Cordner-Verner syndrome."

"And for whom is he willing to expend so much effort? I don't believe in his sudden altruism."

"I do not know. My job was to prepare the ingredients."

"Is that all, Severus?"

"No. The Lord ordered David Hume to kill you as punishment for his father's failure. Everyone was cheering. I believe the only purpose is torturing the parents. He does not expect the boy to succeed."

"Yes, I already know. Keep a close eye on the boy, Severus. I am afraid he might poison some of the students."

"A detailed report will be on your desk tomorrow," Severus finished.

"Continue gathering information, Severus. I will tell you a more precise course of action once I review your memories and report. For now, let's talk about Hogwarts. I substituted for your classes for over a month. Hogwarts has changed. First, a number of students purchased used books with handwritten notes in the margins... We confiscated them with the Ministry's approval and have been cleaning the children's memories. But we are only aware of those who brought their books to Hogwarts. The clever ones memorized the spells and destroyed the books... The infirmary is full. We already expelled three students, and one was sentenced to two years in Azkaban for using Shadow Whisper on a classmate. I tried to use my influence, but the Wizengamot wouldn't budge. Another student tried to force a niffler out of the ground with lightning. His wand is beyond repair, but I was able to reattach his arms. Two more started a contest for the largest fireball. The flames kept going out, so they decided to increase the room's oxygen level... Fortunately, Flitwick happened to be walking by. He stopped them, took off a thousand points from each, and gave them detention for the rest of their Hogwarts careers... Needless to say, we are running out of healing potions.

Someone learned and spread a ghost banishing spell. A seventh year Ravenclaw banished Peeves. We could not expel him for illegal spell use: he was hailed a hero, even the teachers and the Board of Governors defended him. Myrtle was banished when she disturbed a couple's privacy. We did expel those two. It helped to prevent more losses, but I had to personally patch the Grey Lady."

"Headmaster... Peeves should have been banished decades ago," Snape carefully noted.

"You are thinking too narrowly, Severus. Ghosts are a part of the castle surveillance and defense system. And Peeves... He brought pleasant breaks from the routine, stopped the school from becoming too drab. And thanks to Peeves, we didn't need to teach cleaning charms - even the laziest students excelled at them by the end of their first year. Next, Severus. All teachers are now required to attend every quidditch match. House Heads must be present at their teams' training sessions."

"I am a legilimens. It makes me extremely uncomfortable in large crowds of emotional people who know nothing about occlumency."

"I have the same problem, but we have no choice. The Board bought everyone racing brooms. Madame Hooch can't handle the children alone. Even I struggle to keep an eye on 14 children darting at over hundred miles per hour and purposefully colliding with one another. The Gryffindor seeker bashed his head open at full speed. It wasn't a Dark magic wound, yet I barely saved him- it took time to gather all the brain bits from the field. Some children suffered psychological trauma. I can't be sure I will always make it in time. I tried banning the new brooms. It was the only time no one supported me, not even McGonagall. The Board wants to add broom racing as a second school sport. I am resisting to the best of my ability, but who knows how it will end..."

"Can you not outright ban them, Headmaster?"

"The Ministry on whose territory we are located and the Board who finances us always have the final say. It is becoming more and more difficult to block their initiatives, and the brooms are not the worst of it. They continue introducing new extracurriculars. For instance, the "Binns-free history club." It is not the best idea to tell children how wizards of the past resolved the problem of lacking energy for a spell..."

That was putting it mildly, Albus thought. Most magical traditions were rooted in antiquity when it was perfectly acceptable to use a captured or killed enemy in war. Sadly, humanitarianism was a relatively recent invention... And a muggle one at that...

"Keep an eye on your students, Severus. The school received new muggle studies textbooks. Books with graphic illustrations of muggle battlefields, gas chambers, prisons, serial killer biographies... And they all stress the difference between magical and muggle population sizes. For example, that the British armed forces are larger than the British wizarding population, and the mobilizable population of China is 80 times the population of the entire magical world. Muggle studies exam questions like "why do muggles need electricity?" had been replaced with "how many people will a nuclear bomb dropped on London kill?" Two-thirds of the children were very surprised to learn a nuclear bomb is more effective than Fiendfyre. By far the worst of it are the photos of Hiroshima ruins and their overlay on top of the Diagon Alley map... Instead of muskets, children now watch demonstrations of sniper rifles and grenade launchers, where a squib hits the target from a thousand feet away. I tried to prevent it, the Board kept pushing. Eventually, the Ministry interfered. Reviews of 56 experts from 19 countries concluded these books positively contributed to upholding of the Statute of Secrecy. And in the light of all the Statute problems we've been having lately, the Ministry was quick to accept them. Now muggle studies is yet another club where children waited in line to sign up."

Despite his madness, Tom turned out cleverer than expected. Rather than force-feed the children propaganda, he made them willingly reach for the information he needed. Hogwarts was one of the world's top schools, but its muggle studies and history of magic programs were somewhat.. abridged... No need to promote hatred, children should start their new life with a blank slate. Because the true history of the magical world consisted of nothing but horror, horror, horror. Then slaughter, slaughter, and sacrifices... Then some extraordinarily powerful ritual and... Hyperborea. It was never found. The Atlantis sunk. Crete... No, the labyrinth was trivial, even with its "special" Minotaur... But their attempts to channel a volcano eruption at the enemy tragically backfired- nature did not care who it hurt. Pompeii later suffered the same fate...

"I see Hogwarts has changed," Snape remarked dryly.

"You have no idea. Now children check their food with poison detectors or ask friends to do it for them. There are a couple of occlumency clubs, but some attempt to learn legilimency before occlumency... We had to rehabilitate one for a week- he convinced himself he was a Schrodinger's cat."

"Hogwarts has always been a madhouse. How could it not be with so many imbeciles."

"You are free to go now, Severus. I will be waiting on your report. This weekend, I'll introduce you to our new groundskeeper. He is doing a remarkable job at stopping the children from sneaking into the forest."

Severus left, and Albus got lost in thought. Everything seemed to be going off the rails. Even Hogwarts no longer brought him joy. He had nightmares that he was still the Headmaster, but Hogwarts turned into a Dark Arts school that made Durmstrang look like a monastery... He checked himself for foreign influences, and everything returned clear. Merely stress and exhaustion. Not surprising...

Albus was able to hide the Elder Wand for a remarkably long time. A wand could be covered with an illusion, but it would draw too much attention and disappear with every use.. His solution was genius in its simplicity: not using a wand in front of witnesses. And so, he cast almost everything wandlessly, regularly straining himself to near unconsciousness. Coupled with a nonchalant face, it made everyone believe him to be the next Merlin.

Another great idea was dressing like a clown. People paid attention to his appearance rather than his wand. Pink bells in his beard would distract anyone. High heel shoes, purple robes... And when in addition to all that he said some nonsense, people were too busy questioning his mental health to notice a very conspicuous wand. They saw the wand but didn't remember it.

Also, lemon drops. Got asked an inconvenient question or simply needed time to think? Offer a lemon drop. While they declined or choked on them, Albus won some extra time. Numbing his own taste receptors with a wandless spell became a habit.

But in combat, disguise took a back seat. Tom must have compared witness memories. Albus breathed with relief he had hidden Gregorovich in time.

Now the secret floated to the surface and was spreading ripples. A crippled Auror asked him for the wand to return his arms and legs - the Elder Wand could do much for its owner. Dumbledore declined. The crazed desperation of the near-dead magical invalid will haunt Albus for the rest of his life. He had to erase the poor man's memories.

Albus was attacked at his bowling game but managed to stun all seven and erase the evidence. He expected Tom's servants, but these were entirely unconnected Spanish mercenaries who wanted the Elder Wand for themselves.

And then Crouch requesting his wand for expertise... He couldn't risk the wand thinking it got a new owner.

So many problems... For example, that girl who asked him about the Elder Wand. What was he supposed to do? Lie? Albus always tried his best to avoid lying. Not telling the whole truth was more ethical and fooled any strong legilimens who would sense an outright lie. Admit he had the wand? Send her away with a made up excuse? Obliviate her? Gellert would have killed her... Albus dusted up on his deflection skills.

 _"Professor is it true you have the Deathstick?"_

What else could he do? Back then, he thought it was a decent idea. The image of a kooky old man had saved him many times...

 _"I left sex behind many years ago, and you are too young to be asking these questions," Albus said and watched the red-faced girl run away._

Yes, he won that round. But it resulted in new rumors around Hogwarts: Albus Dumbledore surpassed the Dark Lord not only on the battlefield but also in bed...

Albus wished he could laugh at the whispers about "Dumbledore's staff," especially since he had dreadfully few reasons to smile lately. But when he caught the stare of a sixth year who was sizing up his nose to deduce the size of his penis... He was old enough to be her great-great-grandfather! That day, he poured himself a firewhisky for the first time in seventeen years.

When Albus was little, he wanted to become a strong legilimens. He did. Now he only thought about throwing thoughts out of his head.

He wanted to become a powerful wizard. He did. The constant conflicts that came with it were an unwelcome surprise.

He wanted to know everything. Now he knew a great deal. And even though he would never use some of his knowledge, there was much he wanted to forget.

He wanted to find the Hallows. Now he had two out of three. He had the best wand but was forced to do everything wandlessly. And the cloak... Maybe if he left it with the Potters, at least one of them could have survived?

Or perhaps Albus was just tired.

Albus Dumbledore had many secrets. He was born in 1881. Officially, it made him a little over a hundred. An average witch or wizard lived to around 100-120. Being born with more power and spending time near a magic source increased the lifespan, though the relationship was not linear. For Dumbledore, a hundred years should make him look no older than forty. But achieving everything he had set out to accomplish took a lot of work. And now he had to juggle his many positions...

When Albus was a student at Hogwarts, he had earned the permission to use a time-turner by the end of his first year. Thanks to it, his days lasted far longer than 24 hours ever since. And the biological processes followed factually experienced time. Albus was over three hundred... He could handle Tom now but for how much longer? Ten calendar years? Twenty? How much time would it mean for him? As Nicholas liked to joke, Albus had all the chances to grow older than his teacher.

Dumbledore's life was no picnic. First he was bullied for being a "halfblood" because of his muggleborn mother. Back then, people put a lot more stock in blood purity. The US, for example, legally prohibited marrying muggles...Then Albus became the "son of a murderer." Then worse. Rumors about his "wrong sexual orientation," disqualification from many jobs based on these rumors, ensuing money problems, mother's death, sister's death, falling out with his brother Aberforth, falling out with his best friend Gellert, strained relationship with his mentor Flamel... The First World War and wizards starting their own conflicts under the cover of muggle chaos... Back then Albus considered it hell on earth, but it paled in comparison to the future...

He eventually found Gellert and tried to talk sense into him, but Gellert had gone from talking about the greater good to talking about concentration camps, slavery and granting absolute power to one group of people. Still, Albus could not bring himself to kill him. He let him go, reasoning that Gellert should soon understand how utterly unrealistic and absurd his ideas are and return to his senses... Albus checked his friend's mind: he was still sane. And if he started killing, the Aurors would stop him.

Albus's mistake of judgment proved fatal. Gellert found the Elder Wand and began recruiting followers. The world had its share of psychopaths, but none ever wielded so much power...

Albus tried to motivate the masses to resist. After surviving the horrors of World War I and corresponding wizarding conflicts, no one wanted to go back to fighting. Dumbledore became an ostracized loon forecasting ridiculous events. So, he gave up his attempts. They would manage on their own, he was not going to force anyone to join an army.

Many were blind to the horrible power gathering under Grindelwald's wing. Most German wizards supported hos cause. Violent skirmishes were spreading like first thunder before a devastating storm. With the Elder Wand, complete lack of conscience, love of human sacrifice and twisted imagination finding an outlet in necromancy, Gellert was unstoppable. His skill in necromancy almost matched the legendary Imphotep. Inferi and liches were not a step of his power pyramid, they were its foundation. (And it resulted in necromancers exterminated as a class after his defeat.)

But when the war finally erupted, Grindelwald made two crucial mistakes. He condemned himself to resource scarcity by going against the entire world and attacked Russia. No one expected the Russians to be so sickly cruel as to use countless of their own citizens as sacrifices. And the two waves of human sacrifice crashed into each other... Albus would forever remember the winter of 1941, the "absolute zero" area curse. He personally saw the focal points reach -273.15 C...No wonder they still struggled to quantify the losses. It was a long and horrific conflict...

Now, all Dumbledore wanted to do was live for himself a little. His lab was gathering dust, the school needed renovations, social initiatives and personal projects were put on the back burner. For example, a portable library... Instead, he had to deal with another war.

During the war with Grindelwald, he did not raise an army. It caused many deaths. During the war with Voldemort, he raised an army. It caused many deaths. The twentieth century saw two Dark Lords: one was his friend, the other he personally picked up from an orphanage and taught transfiguration. The universe had a sick sense of humor...

Albus pulled out a photo of the most trusted members of the Order of the Phoenix. There was a time when he thought it was a good idea to gather talented people under the banner of preventing another Dark wizard from rising to power. But now he doubted himself more than ever: so few survived...

Sirius Black. Who could have imagined him a traitor? Ugly facts trumped the most beautiful hypotheses.

Edgar Bones. Killed by Tom.

Emmeline Vance. Perfectly fine, a powerful witch.

Alastor Moody. Time and enemies spared him no mercy, but his sense of humor never ceased to amuse Albus. Only Alastor could come up with the idea to forge muggle papers and receive disability benefits...

Minerva McGonagall. Alive, successfully teaching transfiguration and leading Gryffindor.

Dedalus Diggle. That munchkin in a top hat would outlive them all.

Caradoc Dearborn. Disappeared without a trace. A murky story. Dumbledore has always been against Dark magic, but the disappearance of an Order member hit him hard. What if the young man could still be saved? Albus stepped over his principles and performed a search by blood... The results did not encourage: 58 signals. He personally checked every one. Pieces of the poor wretch had been thrown around the entire England.

Ephias Doge. Old school friend... They never traveled together after graduation like they planned, but now Abus too had met a Chimera.

Frank Longbottom. Killed by Tom.

Alice Longbottom. Killed by Tom.

Remus Lupin. Spying among the werewolves.

Marlene McKinnon. Killed by Tom.

Dorcas Meadowes. Killed by Tom.

Peter Pettigrew. Alive and working. Received an Order of Merlin. Albus personally checked him after the victory over Black- everything was clear.

Sturgis Podmore. Successfully working for the DMLE.

James Potter. Killed by Tom.

Lily Potter. Killed by Tom. Albus found fragments of James's, Alice's and Frank's bodies in France. Tom likely didn't bother with a muggleborn. Just in case, Albus searched for her by blood - no signal.

Gideon and Fabian Prewett. Killed by Tom. And they were tougher than the Longbottoms...

Benjy Fenwick. Killed.

Arabella Figg. No one paid attention to squibs, and she was a good source of information.

Rubeus Hagrid. Most likely killed. Search by blood remained silent.

Mundungus Fletcher. A small-time thief, but even he was useful.

And the new guard:

Kingsley Shacklebolt. A very talented Auror who would grow into another Moody. If he survives long enough.

Angelica Peters. One of Horace's best students.

Arthur and Molly Weasley. How were they not afraid to join the fight with this many children?

Robert Arbogast. A French ex-mercenary. Moved to England to play vigilante after his group was destroyed, ended up arrested due to his somewhat... questionable arsenal. The Aurors released him into Dumbledore's custody. A battle-trained wizard working as a groundskeeper for ten galleons a month was a good investment... Albus reminded himself to check the man's report about Acromantulas disappearing from the forest. Robert insisted they must have joined Voldemort. He would have made a perfect drinking mate for Alastor, but neither of them drank because of "constant vigilance."

A few more years at this pace, and Albus would end up alone... Maybe he should listen to Alastor? Take a strike team with Fawkes and break into neutral pureblood homes. Restrain everyone and search for evidence.. If none were found, they had enough apologies to go around.

Or another one of Moody's genius plans: find the strongest Time-Turner at the Department of Mysteries and go back to the 30s to kill Grindelwald and Tom Riddle... Albus would correct it: travel to 1880s to prevent Ariana's illness. Or farther back and stop the Peverells from creating the Hallows, especially the wand... Or to the first century BCE and stop Herpo the Foul from inventing horcruxes... Or... Enough.

Games with time never ended well. Ever. Using a Time-Turner for extra study time was one thing. Changing something important always led to a worse outcome. All Unspeakables knew this axiom. If Albus used a Time-Turner for these goals, he might create a world that was conquered by Dark Lord Dumbledore whose childhood missed an inoculation against pride. Or an insane Dark wizard Dumbledore ritually killed Ariana in an attempt to understand the Veil of Death...

In truth, this was a problem of all powerful wizards: they thought themselves gods or at least the top of the pyramid.

It was time to stop wallowing in sadness, Albus decided. He had to watch Snape's memories and test them for authenticity.

Unfortunately, they were all true...

The Dark Lord's student survived. It was stupid to suspect Crouch, but he was the only reason Albus didn't come to Diagon and didn't send any Orderers. Albus had to investigate. He did not condone searches without the Order's presence, but Crouch... Even if he was guilty, that trial could outlast Flamel... And they in were the thick of war, people were dying...

With a careless swish of his wand, Albus turned invisible. After thinking a bit, he opened his safe and took out _that_ invisibility cloak. Absolute concealment from all magical detection... And pressure on the ground was easy to remove with self-levitation. He could do anything, even rob Gringotts- nothing short of bumping into something would reveal him.

Only Fawkes felt him through the soul connection. Albus called on his familiar and disappeared in a flame. The Founders truly deserved their legends- Hogwarts wards blocked absolutely everyone and everything from apparating without the Headmaster's authorization.

Albus left his phoenix at home and apparated to Crouch's house. Still perfectly invisible, he cautiously passed through the wards with a few waves of the Elder Wand. Crouch and his son were out, but Albus saw Crouch's wife. The diagnosis was clear as day: Cordner-Verner syndrome. No cure, not even the Elixir of Life... Only Dark magic. Now her hermit lifestyle made sense.

Taking great care to avoid the wards, guards and house elves, Albus examined the area. He reminded himself of an octopus that spread tentacles in every direction, tentacles that were thinner than a strand of hair but more sensitive than the tip of the tongue... And he found something. A number of Dark ritual descriptions written without magic. Very clever. Most wizards searched magically, to think anyone would sketch a lich-raising circle in the middle of a muggle porn magazine...

Maybe it was a coincidence? Crouch didn't know? Albus started searching more thoroughly. Deep transe.. Everything was clear. Deeper... Still clear. Although, maybe not... Surely no one except him and maybe Tom would sense it, and only from within the wards...

Albus really didn't want to do this... But he had no other way to fully scan the area without losing concealment. Breathe in, breathe out... Begin... Partial entrance into the astral plane.

The human mind was completely unadapted for this. No, it was not Dark magic. And it was not difficult. But keeping what you saw at bay was hard. The smallest misstep - and the peculiar view of the world would stay forever. Albus warned the Lovegoods, but they just had to experiment...

The outer ward edge was touching something else. Something underground. Deep under the house sat a network of caverns radiating magic. Albus felt several humans and very distinct Dark magic defenses. Entering would raise an alarm - his tricks won't fool an Antipatronus or a Dementor. But he did scan the surface level. A makeshift ritual hall set up for curing Mrs. Crouch.

So, Crouch was either a complete idiot or at least an accomplice of Voldemort. Otherwise, Tom would simply blow up the manor... Of course, there was always a possibility that Tom wanted to sic them on each other. Or Crouch's wife was the one at fault. Or his son. Or a guard. Or a house elf. In muggle films, it was always the butler's or gardener's fault... Unable to resist any longer, Albus felt his thoughts scramble...

Or a cat... He needed a better mental circumference. A tetrahedron of senses. A dodecahedron of honesty. An icosahedron of time... Everything was the wrakspurts' fault! Although, the cat was also a decent idea. Albus was great at transfiguration. He should transfigure himself into a cat that will slo-o-o-o-owly-y-y apparate like the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland. And make sure to stretch the smile as big as possible...

It was time to finish this. Summon up all the will. He did not want to think about it. He did not want to see it. No, he was not interested in new colors. No, he did not want to know any of that. He was Albus Dumbledore, England's last hope to defeat Voldemort.

Albus was drenched in sweat. Violent shivers shook his body. But the world returned to normal. He partially transfigured himself and silently flew out of the house through an open window.

He was soon back in his Hogwarts office, thinking. There was only one solution: talking to Crouch. With legilimency. And Veritaserum. Together with all his family. In court. If they were framed, the trial would uncover it. If not, the guilty would go to Azkaban.

Albus had to prepare. Get in touch with some foreign friends. He could put together an international committee in record time and conduct a search on ICW authority. Moody and the Order would stand guard. All of the Order, not just those in the photo. His golems would cover them. Albus loved transfiguring in his free time and had built up quite a stock.. And he should do a little shopping with the members' donations and his own money. Albus didn't have much other use for the salaries from his many posts...

After sending out the letters, Dumbledore apparated to the Forbidden Forest by Phoenix. The Acromantula nest was empty... A couple of small spiders scurrying around received stunning charms. Technically, legilimency on a magical creature was not the best idea.. But these Acromantulas were no larger than an average dog, he could handle it..

So, the leader Aragog was dead along with his wife. The new leader Morgul took the group somewhere beyond the forest. Less than a dozen little ones remained and were trying to reestablish the nest. But they were very unlikely to succeed: the rest of the forest's inhabitants harbored a lot of hate for the spiders and would hunt them down.

Acromantulas at Tom's service... Albus was sure Aragog would never allow it. Hagrid swore it. Albus had been meaning to move the spiders to their native Borneo but always put it off... Organizing a transcontinental portkey for hundreds of XXXXX-class creatures was such a hassle... Not even mentioning the inevitable question of where he got the spiders. And who would accept them other than for ingredients? Send them somewhere in secret? It would, at the very least, constitute a terrorist act, if not a declaration of war-

Suddenly, Albus felt a signal that flooded him with dread. He disappeared in Fawkes' flame and reappeared in Aberforth's house. Empty. Scanning charms. Empty. A message through Fawkes feather. No answer. Patronus could not find the recepient. Perhaps his brother was in a highly warded place... He should thoroughly search the house... Nothing unusual. Although... There was an open liquor bottle.

The way that bottle concealed its contents would earn an instant mastery in artefactorics. Tens of thousands of galleons for a copy of Aberforth favorite whiskey that cost at most ten... The analysis of its contents showed traces of the potion "Call of the Dead." Albus bitterly remembered all the times he admonished his brother for drinking straight from the bottle. A glass could never be charmed so thoroughly...

Another Phoenix apparition. Aberforth's whiskey suppliers were alive but under Confundus. After calling in some of the Order to take care of them, Albus sat down to meditate. A long time ago, when Ariana was still alive and blood magic was still legal, he made locator artifacts for every member of his family. His sister's and mother's pendants shattered at the moment of their death. The signal he received said Aberforth's pendant was removed from his body... Had he really been captured by Death Eaters?

Following the signal, Albus quickly found the place where the pendant was removed. He found the melted artifact in the ashes of an ordinary muggle house... But the stone within was unharmed, so his brother still lived.

How did they get to him? Call of the Dead, classified as a Dark potion. Albus had to jog his memory... Causes targeted hallucinations. Ingredients... Pieces of dead relatives. Best of all, mother.

Another flash of flame, and Albus was standing at the Godric's Hollow cemetery. He approached his mother's and sister's graves. Everything looked normal.. No, not normal. In magical sight, the graves appeared recently disturbed. Already knowing what he would see, Albus used the Rontgen charm. The caskets were empty.

Suppressing a scream of fury bursting out of his chest, he apparated back to his office and chugged a glass of whiskey.

When Albus was young, he didn't want to die. He wanted to live forever. No, he would never kill anyone for it. The Hallows were an appealing idea. The Sorting Hat had good reasons to spend so much time on his head before telling him he belonged in all four houses and offering him to make his own choice. Back then, he was very vain. He told the Hat he would succeed anywhere on his own. The Hat replied that such confidence and bluntness was worthy of Gryffindor.

Then his mother died, and Albus took a deep interest in resurrecting the dead. Restoring the body and returning the soul.. It was a false hope. Only the Resurrection Stone could bring back a soul, but where to search for it? Of course, he now had two out of three... One more, and he would become the omnipotent master of death...

No, he must banish these thoughts even from the edge of his mind. Otherwise, before he knew it, he'd begin endorsing selective use of force. Then collateral damage. Then necessary sacrifices. All for the greater good, of course! Everything will be worth it! And there you have it, another ready-made Grindelwald who believes one can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs... This was not Albus's way.

When his sister died... It was a very wrong thing to say, but she meant more for him than the rest of his family put together. Albus thought, what if he one day found the Resurrection Stone? Ariana should not live as a rotten corpse. Using someone else's body was disgusting. He could grow another... but creating homunculi was illegal. Preserving the body seemed only natural: not Dark magic, completely legal. And now Ariana could wait until he found the Stone.

And when Albus let go of that ambition... A preserved body was not hurting anything. A lich? Are you insane, Gellert was dead, there would be no more Dark Lords. Tom Riddle began recruiting an army? Tom was not interested in the past. And how could anyone raise a lich from such an old body? Tom Riddle was no Imhotep.

But now Albus was not so sure. A body of an Obscurial could be used for something... He had to warn everyone. Have them learn the spells Aurors used to take down that Obscurial in New York...

An owl frying through his window interrupted his thoughts. Albus checked the letter. It was redundant, really: the wards would never let anything dangerous through..

Barkeep Tom from the Leaky Cauldron wrote that he met Voldemort and Death Eaters. He received a round of Cruciatus and a curse that would kill him unless Albus came and removed it personally. He also had a message: Voldemort was offering peace to Albus Dumbledore.

At that, Albus began checking himself for mental influences for the fifth time in one day. But it turned out to be a simple offer to divide the Magical Britain into two states. Scotland with Hogwarts to Dumbledore, the Ministry and Stonehenge (England, Wales, Ireland) to Voldemort. Separate states, separate politics. Tom was willing to give him all the muggleborns born in his territory and stay out of Albus's internal affairs.

And there was the hook, written under Tom's dictation: " _Like the magic of frost and fire uniting in the famed spell, we can achieve great things together. We can bring your family back from the dead. I have not harmed your brother and am prepared to return him immediately. If you agree, mention the name Elizabeth Mitchell at tomorrow's Wizengamot meeting._ "

No thanks. Grindelwald already tried that. Albus pitied his brother and would try to save him, but not at the cost of collaborating with Tom. That agreement would not be worth the paper it is written on. And if the impossible happened and Tom followed through, then Albus's death would put the entire magical Britain right into Tom's hands.

He had to heal the bartender, then open his safe and refresh some memories. Do some reading...

Albus Dumbledore never purposefully killed his opponents. But Tom more than earned an exception. Of course, murder mutilated the soul... But if Albus killed Voldemort, it didn't mean he would turn around and kill McGonagall! Imprisoning Tom was useless. First of all, Tom would outlive any prison. Second, he would never return to normal: even one horcrux caused irreversible changes. And Albus didn't believe Tom was capable of remorse. But "killing" Tom before destroying his anchors was pointless as well... If he failed to capture Tom or temporarily imprison him, the only option was to disembody him, then extinguish the fires of this civil war and go search for the horcruxes... No one has seen Tom's snake for a while, did he make it into another horcrux?

Dumbledore apparated to Diagon. The barkeep was indeed cursed but with nothing immediately lethal. His memories were genuine: Tom and five masked figures in the background. While Albus was healing the barkeep, he pondered what he should use to take Tom down. He had some ideas, but if none of them helped... No, not Dark magic. Dimensional. With the Elder Wand on his side, Albus should be able to turn the disembodiment ritual into a spell. It was usually performed by five wizards on an immobilized target, but Abus would manage.

Fawkes dropped him off in front of Moody's house. This was one house he would never apparate inside, no matter how uncomfortable it was to stand in a circle of explosive runes at the entrance. Albus's protections could handle it, but Moody insisted everyone entered his home in this manner.

"Who are you?" Alastor asked, pointing his wand at Albus.

"It's me, Albus." Here we go...

"What did we do in Transylvania?" Alastor began his test.

"You have never been to Transylvania."

"What were the last words you heard me say?"

"Kick Snape's greasy arse to the curb, or he'll betray us all," recited Albus with a sigh.

"What time is it?"

Albus looked at his watch. It was 3:45 in the morning.

"Ten till four," Albus said. This was their agreement. He calls the time five minutes ahead to prove he is Albus or gets a Killing Curse in the face. Albus tried to argue for a stunner, but Moody was unbending: if someone was able to expertly disguise themselves as Albus, it must be Voldemort. Only Avada Kedavra. It was such a hassle to charm the watch to be unbreakable, connected to Moody's watch and always showing the exact same time without radiating magic...

"Good to see you, friend. What brings you here? If you want to lecture me for burying muggle mines around the house and eating the map when Kingsley asked for their locations..."

"No. Not that. Voldemort kidnapped my brother."

"May he rest in peace. We will avenge him. They'll pay for everything, they will all rot in Azkaban! No, Azkaban will long rot away, and they'll continue rotting in the next prison! Maybe you, I, Kingsley, Podmore and McGonagall should take a tour of the manors of so-called "neutral purebloods"? I am sure the Bullstrodes serve Voldemort! They just haven't been caught yet! Wait a moment while I transfigure us some more explosives..."

"No, Alastor. They are innocent until proven guilty. And even if we won against Voldemort with these methods, we would be simply taking his place. One dictatorship replacing another. Get everyone ready. Every single person we have. Practice spells against Acromantulas, Obscuri and undead. We may have to storm Crouch's manor."

"Why him? He'd throw his own son in Azkaban!"

"Maybe his son, but apparently not his wife. Listen to what I discovered..."


	31. Murder Harms Souls? In Numbers, Please

I was in a rotten mood: awake for two days, sitting around waiting for Albus to visit Crouch Sr. The others were on a two minute standby, waiting for the go-ahead. For now, I was passing time by dissecting Aberforth's memories of Ariana's death and using them to improve Albus's personalized nightmare. And a couple of vials with Aberforth's blood would come handy as well...

Aberforth's capture went relatively smoothly. We slipped the Call of the Dead into his favorite liquor, and he never noticed the potion in the charmed bottle. He succumbed to visions of his sister and mother telling him they are alive and waiting for him at a specific address. Since no one could doubt the reality of the hallucinations created by this potion, he walked straight into a Death Eater ambush, happily dispelled his defenses and surrendered his wand.

It wasn't without complications. When Aberforth was asked to take off the pendant artifact, he complied. But as soon as the artifact left his neck, it released such a powerful cleansing spell that the potion's effects instantly vanished. Aberforth resisted and showed impressive skills in wandless magic. But when you are wandless, without pre-applied shields and stand alone against six, two of whom are Carrows, resisting does not do much good. And that was how I acquired a high-value captive. He could throw off the Imperius all day, but I cracked him with legilimency. And the Draught of the Living Death solved all other prisoner problems: how could anyone attempt an escape while unconscious and unable to control their own breathing or heartbeat?

My thoughts kept veering off to issues in no way related to the upcoming attack. I was still processing the recent past.

I partially verified Horace's account of the harm of Dark magic. The Lestranges had pre-made runic patterns for many standard rituals. I've been cutting out pieces of the floor with suitable fragments -sometimes ten rines, sometimes a hundred- and drawing the connecting runes myself... The resulting mosaic formed a "ritual circle" with 3252 runes. Parts of it resembled the horcrux creation ritual, only instead of focusing the energy into the wizard to splinter the soul, this ritual measured it. I would have never completed it without Tom's horcrux experiences.

The ritual worked for the low price of a sacrificed sheep and some human blood, so I carried out a number of experiments. The protocol was simple: perform the ritual, exert some impact on a human (for example, Crucio), then repeat the ritual and see what changed. Or more precisely, try to interpret a pile of numbers and graphs.

When muggles killed someone, no changes occurred. Or maybe I could not detect any.

With a wizard, the same scenario became far more interesting. Indeed, killing a human left traces on a much deeper level than the energy system. Every murder accumulated something I nicknamed "necroenergy." It even happened when a wizard killed without magic, for instance bludgeoned someone to death with a club.

Problem was, the mere fact of casting some spells -Antipatronus, Rotting Swarm- left behind this "necroenergy" just the same! And killing someone with a Dark spell had a larger effect than the sum of the two elements, the murder and the spell use itself!

Tne Unforgivables proved to be the absolute worst. Avada Kedavra was the "dirtiest" spell I have tested. Even casting it at the wall gave more "necroenergy" than a mundane murder, more than Fiendfyre! And killing with Avada...

The second most problematic curse was Crucio. I found no changes after torture with thumbscrews and needles- it was either clean or left too little to be detected. But torture with the Cruciatus led to massive accumulation of necroenergy... And surprisingly, the accumulation was directly proportional to the spell strength and relishing the others' pain.

The Imperius made no sense. Even when used to drive a human insane, mental magic left no traces as long as the subject survived. But there was a single exception- the Imperius. Any attempt to cast it built up "necroenergy," and successfully subduing a human multiplied the effects. The only uplifting news was that the duration of the Imperius was irrelevant, unlike the Cruciatus.

But what dumbfounded me the most was blood magic. Using own blood to cast an Expelliarmus had no negative effects. Using own blood to cast a Sectusempra resulted in the standard Dark magic effect of this particular spell. And using someone else's blood was unconditionally Dark, even when spent on a levitation charm.

In an attempt to understand at least a little, I thought up a simple analogy: Dark Magic was like firearms - each use covered hands in residue. Sometimes less, sometimes more... This residue stung, and after reaching a certain critical amount... Probably caused mutations...

Funny, Tom always mocked Albus for his "murder mutilates the soul" and magical laws "On classification of Dark magic." It turned out they held more than just a grain of truth... I thought about what to do next... Grow a beard and propagate the power of love? No, my path was my own. It was only logical: "necroenergy" both accumulated and dissipated, so as long as the influx was slower than clearance, it would be possible to, for example, kill someone twice a day indefinitely.

It would be useful to know the critical level that caused irreversible changes, but I had no time for the untold number of experiments it would take to determine. On the other hand, measuring the speed of clearance was more manageable. I have tested several captive wizards, the Lestranges, Sirius Black, and myself.

First. My speed was slightly above the average prisoner. I had no way to judge whether it was high or low.

Second. In Bellatrix, this parameter was six times lower than mine. I initially suspected the Black blood and tested Sirius. But his was perfectly average...

Third. Edward's, Rodolphus's and Rabastan's "necroenergy" dissipated three time faster than mine. I would have blamed blood purity, but then Bella didn't fit the system...

My best hypothesis so far was that the magic source acted as a sort of external stabilizer. And Bella's "partial connection" slowed her rate of "Dark magic detox." In Hogwarts, she was as sane as a Black could be. Tom first noticed her potential with the Cruciatus after she had already become a Lestrange.

In light of these new facts, the picture of the medieval magical society started to look more reasonable. The vast majority worked to feed themselves or the aristocracy. The aristocracy, comprised of the ancient pureblood lines, waged wars among themselves and against muggles with highly lethal spells- Dark Magic. To stay sane, they sat on places of power that were scarce and not available to everyone. Exceptionally enthusiastic ones like Slytherin grew insane in their old age. And when the Statute of Secrecy removed the need for a warrior caste, it sent Dark Magic into decline... Why support potentially unhinged soldiers with no wars in sight? Several centuries was enough for the masses to forget the why of it. The Unspeakables were surely aware. They probably had some artifact that read a spell formula and instantly determined wherever it was dark..

I was more concerned with the present. What do I do with this knowledge? Tell the Death Eaters? It would be suicide. The likes of Malfoy and Nott would run to Dumbledore. Idealists like Rosier or Carrows would accuse me of going soft and betraying the cause. The Lestranges would do what I say, but I could not afford to weaken my soldiers in the midst of war.

With some effort, even these news can be moulded into a shiny jewel... I found terribly top-secret scrolls in the Chamber of Secrets that explain why we need muggleborns! Their purpose is to lose their minds in our place! Why not? There were two ways to solve this: concentrate the harmful effects in one group and protect it or spread them evenly among everyone so that each receives less than the critical dosage. I felt like an engineer designing a nuclear power plant...

Unfortunately, the research was still at its infancy. All I had was an experimentally compiled chart of necroenergy accumulation for three dozen spells. It would be a great start, but it turned out that the same spell performed by me, Rabastan and a randomly chosen prisoner caused different amounts of harm to each of us! Meaning, everyone needed a personalized chart of every spell! And that was not even mentioning Dark potions, rituals, artifacts... They all had to be tested for every individual... Or at least for me.. Now I understood Albus: it was much easier to pass a blanket ban on Dark magic for everyone.

For myself, I settled on a temporary plan: kill with other people's hands. If it is not feasible, kill with something benign like accelerated rocks and do my best not to abuse the Killing Curse. I really did not want to end up like Don Quixote and attack windmills, mistaking them for giants..

My fight at Diagon must have left me with an ocean of "necroenergy" from my own spells. But almost completely abstaining from magic for a month should have cleared it out...

The problems mostly stemmed from not having a magic source. Should I tell the Lestranges to adopt me? No, magical adoption needed the new member be as young as possible, no older than a toddler. Adoption was out. Marriage? My options of pureblood women with a family source came down Carrow, future widow Black. She was rather ugly, but surgery and polyjuice have worked greater miracles... I must find Slytherin's legacy right away! So far, I only had two ideas: ransack old papers or go down to the Chamber of Secrets to ask the Basilisk where Slytherin hatched it and whether it remembered the directions...

It was beyond infuriating: I would soon face Albus and planned to rely on a slew of Dark magic because nothing else worked against him! And I had no way of knowing when to stop before overdosing...

All unpleasant thoughts were cut short once my communication artifact came to life: Barty Jr. had an urgent and very valuable message. Strange, I haven't drank Felix Felicis but already got incredibly lucky! Through his connections, Crouch Sr. learned that his home was about to be searched and he was powerless to stop it: Albus pushed the ICW for an international warrant and will personally accompany the committee. Crouch either feared stumbling into a trap or thought that Albus would instantly recognize his wife's illness. He sent his wife and son to one of their country houses. An unguarded house under Fidelius where Barty Crouch Sr. himself was the keeper...

But I did not need him to let me through the Fidelius. One Imperio from Barty Jr. - and both mother and son came to me on their own. The father's desire to hide his family simplified everything. He added one final flourish by entrusting his wife with the only illegal item they had in the manor. I never knew Crouch had a Time-Turner...

I branded Mrs. Crouch's forearm, put her under my own Imperius and convinced her she wanted to go home... But not before stuffing her bag full of artifacts that would earn an immediate Dementor's kiss if discovered.

"And don't forget to resist the search!" I gave her the last compulsion before touching Barty's Mark to summon everyone. His father's departure from the political Olympus will be very loud...

* * *

 _I know, short chapter full of magical theory. Let's call it an interlude before the battle. Thank you for the reviews!_


	32. The Battle at Crouch's Manor, Pt 1

**Barty Crouch Sr.**

For the second time in his life, Barty Crouch Sr. asked for a day off. He went home with extra security detail and prepared to greet his influential guests.

Recent events left almost no room for doubt: there was a conspiracy growing around him. Barty would have chalked it up to Voldemort trying to remove him with someone else's hands, but how would Albus Dumbledore searching his house help with that? Planting something with him was impossible. And even then, the court would determine the truth. The only thing he had to hide was the Time-Turner. And his wife. Few had the necessary knowledge, but the committee included Albus and two more people capable of recognizing her illness. And while Moody was no trained healer, he'd notice traces of something Dark, stun first and ask questions later. His wife was too sick to tolerate any magic, she was barely hanging on already...

Crouch and his ten most trusted approached the apparition platform. His guests had arrived: ten foreigners, Albus, and a surprisingly large escort. Moody he could understand, that paranoiac was always happy to search everyone... But the best of the Order? McGonagall? Vance? Shacklebolt? Podmore?

Bartemius Crouch considered himself a powerful and knowledgeable wizard, but he couldn't identify the heaps and heaps of artifacts Albus and the Order members were wearing. In magical sight, it looked like they all had fireworks glued to their clothes... Did they gear up for war? Why? This place was protected by three dozen guards and a family source... Although, it could be due to the fact they were _his_ guards and _his_ source.

"May I see your documents?" Crouch asked.

He studied the papers slowly and thoroughly: " _In accordance with the ICW regulation 384.17... authorized to conduct a search... attempt to secure cooperation._.." All stamps were in their proper places. Authentic, but he expected nothing less. However, a separate order from the Minister of Magic to transfer the command of his guards to Alastor Moody, who within the bounds of this operation does not obey Bartemius Crouch... That was something new...

"You can begin your search," Crouch said.

While the committee got to work, he chatted up Albus, invited him inside and offered tea. Albus refused food and drinks but was otherwise his normal polite self. Moody, as always, spun around his eye and barked something at his people through a communication artifact.

"Bartemius Crouch, your home was found to contain multiple descriptions of Dark rituals. Remove your protections and surrender your wand to the DMLE representatives," Moody commanded.

Both Moody and Albus were carefully watching his every move. Neither pulled out a wand, but the tension was still awful.

A thought to resist appeared somewhere on the edge of Crouch's mind. And instantly vanished. First of all, why? He was obviously framed, and the truth would come out. Second, even though he felt the might of his source ready to crush anyone he targeted, Barty saw no way he could win: he might defeat Moody, but Albus's sheer power... When the dragon comes, all tactics helplessly fly out of the window.

"I am ready to follow your demands and agree to come to the Ministry to assist the investigation," Crouch replied.

"Are there any people in the house besides you?" Moody asked.

"No one except the house elves and guards. My wife and son went for a walk."

"According to section 38 paragraph 54, "persons detained in the immediate vicinity of their connected place of power must be transported in an unconscious state."

"I'm aware, I'm the one who wrote it." Crouch gave up his wand and watched Albus dispel his shields.

Albus was obviously rushing. Every flick of his wand stripped several layers. Truly a master at work. All Barty's artifacts flew to the side. The last thing he felt was his consciousness slowly drifting away.

* * *

 **Albus Dumbledore**

"So, what do you think, Albus?" Moody asked.

"I am very happy you heeded my advice and didn't use lethal force. He was not lying and doesn't consider himself guilty. He thinks someone framed him-"

Before Albus could finish his thought, multiple things happened at once. The manor's defenses fully activated, something cut off all communications, Crouch's unconscious body shimmered and tried to disappear as if by portkey. Albus blocked the transport, but that was the smallest of their problems. Everything went mad: house elves, furniture, garden plants. Someone brought down the full force of the source on them from deep within the basement. And that someone must bear the last name Crouch.

Crouch Sr's voice boomed from the walls, commanding the guards to save him from the guests who were disguised Death Eaters. Most of the guards were personally loyal to Crouch. They believed the voice and attacked the committee. The Aurors reported an explosion of several Dark artifacts in the West wing and an explosion based on sacrificial blood magic in the son's room. They already suffered casualties: the Dutch prosecutor was a good man...

With a wanded spell, Albus temporarily plugged up the source with more energy than it took to create an earthquake. He caught one of the house elves and scanned his thoughts. The creatures were following the orders of Crouch's wife and son, who forbade them from informing the patriarch. Then Crouch was not the traitor... what to do with his stunned body? Reenervate and ask him to restrain his family? Too risky. Send him to the Ministry? It was full of Crouch's loyalists, he could return with reinforcements to save his son and wife. Albus decided it was best to have Fawkes take Crouch to one of the Order's warded bases. Then the Phoenix would deliver a request for backup to the Minister.

Albus and his people swept through the house like a hurricane, stunning Crouch's guards along the way. It wasn't hard: some of them surrendered, some were on the Order's side from the beginning, and the rest stuck to non-lethal spells. Apparently, no one believed the Death Eaters could have disguised themselves as Dumbledore and Moody. The only remaining tasks were finding the Crouches who started this mess, then checking the underground caverns.

However, right after the cease of friendly fire, the manor's grounds got blanketed by powerful anti-traversing charms. Ambient magic thickened, feeling impenetrable. Simultaneously, several area hits caused a landslide and formed a geyser at the front entrance. Albus covered everyone, but the carriage-size balls of black water continued to fly at them. Fawkes brought back a message: the Minister had been informed, but multiple wards covering the area meant they couldn't hope for backup any time soon.

And then Albus felt the activation of a massive portal. How?! He blocked all movement from the underground complex and conjured obstacles in the tunnels... The guests did not come from there?

Before the house stood Voldemort. He looked like the usual macabre hybrid of human and snake. There were no traces of illusion, but something about his appearance didn't seem right. Plastification potion? But why?

Voldemort was holding a new wand, probably made of human bone. His body glowed with blackish-green light that could almost be seen with the naked eye, as if he tried to commit suicide by performing as many Dark rituals as possible. There were multiple defensive artifacts under his clothes. By far the most surprising were the three earrings in his left ear. Voldemort has never been one for fashion. If the earrings' energy didn't point to powerful artifacts, Albus would doubt the reality of what he was seeing.

Voldemort didn't come alone. He brought forty Death Eaters, dozens of liches and acromantulas, hundreds of zombies, inferi, and golems. There were even three giants. And Albus didn't like the look of the magic around them...

But he especially disliked the next part. Like a cheap muggle illusionist, Voldemort opened his outer robe and let out a stream of thick black smoke. It condensed into a large black cloud.

'Ariana... Forgive me for my foolishness and pride, hope there is nothing left of you but the body...' thought Albus.

" _Kill them_ ," Voldemort said in Parseltongue.

No, Albus was not a born parselmouth. Controlling snakes was a harmless mental gift that the court of public opinion turned into a curse. Albus had learned Parseltongue just like he had hundreds of other languages. He understood snakes, but they were not compelled to speak or listen to him.

Still, everything was going to be all right. He too brought in a stationary portal and had tied the charms to people and objects in advance. Albus Dumbledore summoned the entire Order of the Phoenix. Behind his back, soldiers and golems began pouring in.

* * *

The operation began without the slightest hitch. The Crouches returned home in secret and hid. When Crouch Sr. was arrested and dropped unconscious, it was our turn to act.

Barty Jr. created an explosion and tried to take his father's body with blood magic. Mrs. Crouch detonated some artifacts. Crouch's voice incited an armed scuffle, unfortunately a very mild one. Before the instigators could be found, our main forces entered the stage. We temporarily cut off the house from reinforcements and didn't have to worry about the entire Ministry showing up. They could have targeted the manor itself, but thanks to bureaucracy the authorization would take a while... And they wouldn't fire on their own, anyway.

I brought more soldiers than Albus could hope for and strengthened myself with both potions and rituals. The consequences should be minimal: I stretched the process over many days, choosing only the rituals that would enhance me at this specific location and dump the rebound on captives awaiting execution.

As expected, there have been one or two complications. Albus managed to bring in the entire Order and several hundred golems. I was hoping to kill some of the foreigners, but Albus's bird kept disappearing with two or three at a time and returning with Aurors. Hopefully Macnair wouldn't take too long...

Barty Jr. set all of the house's defenses loose on the enemy. Some deranged house elf shouted something about protecting the master and tried to stab them with a knife.

Without ado, I let out a tsunami wave at the Order. Except it consisted of corrosive black jelly rather than water- it was a simple dissolving curse cast with more energy than a firestorm.

With a barely perceptible turn of wrist, Albus dissolved all the blackness before it crossed half the distance. I tried attacking him mentally and met a solid wall. Just as I thought, I'd have to stall and search for a weakness. Or create one. No, not to subdue his will or kill him- that was beyond the realm of possibility. Only force him into a mental battle... And make him an offer he can't refuse.

I was throwing more and more spells at him, all the while examining his mental defenses. They were not a solid wall after all. Walls could be demolished. This was something indescribable: a mix of a labyrinth, quicksand and a system of mirrors.

The Fiendfyre I sent at him immediately died down, the Spirit Fracture dispersed, wandless bone breakers got absorbed by the shield, the Cruciatus hit a permanently transfigured steel sheet.

In return, I received stunners. It would be laughable if it weren't for their speed and number: it felt like standing in the way of multiple machine guns. It'd be easier to dodge rain. I deflected a good part of them, the rest were absorbed by shields.

What do you say when the enemy is hiding behind strong shields? Avada Kedavra. But a master of transfiguration was a very inconvenient target for killing curses: he blocked it with a shapeless object transfigured from air... Maybe the problem lay in quantity?

Albus faced a shower of Killing Curses. Even if he dodged every one, they should at least kill some people behind him.. The air between us filled with transfigured objects that instinctively defended their creator. I tried burning them down with Fiendfyre, but it went out almost immediately. I tried destroying the objects in smaller batches, but Albus was filling the gaps in his improvised shields faster than I was creating them. I threw all my stones with explosive runes, but they burned up on approach.

It was strange. Incredibly strange. Fully aware of the risk, I and all the Death Eaters took a number of potions, including Felix Felicis. Yes, drinking it for the second time in less than two months was a terrible idea when the safe dose was two or three times in a lifetime. But as the saying went, whoever doesn't drink combat potions dies healthy. If this was what my luck looked like, what would have happened without it?

"It was foolish of you to come here, Tom. The Aurors will be here soon," Albus enlightened me.

Yes, I provided for that. You won't bring in too many, your Phoenix will be done flying soon. It's already been clipped with something and almost shoved into a charmed sphere.

The fight with Albus was peculiar. He exemplified all the classical principles: control over everything, maximal effectiveness at minimal cost. And it was the correct decision.

Power lay not so much in overpowering spells, but in their variety and timely use. Hit the weak spots, shatter the shields with minimal effort. The dragon I killed dwarfed me in raw magical power.

No ritual could make up for lack of skill. It was possible to copy memories, but they would merely sit in the mind like a cheat sheet. On the other hand, increasing the volume of available energy was both very possible and accessible. Take out a loan, so to speak. Dark rituals were ideal for that. We had no constraints in time or material. What's more, rituals were similar to artifact creation: their results varied with the conductor, the material, and the subject. Like moonstone capable of more enchantments than plastic, a strong wizard could handle more rituals than a weaker one. So needless to say, when Rosier received the Dark Lord as the subject and a carte blanche on prisoners and money, he created a masterpiece.

I felt bursting with power, like a lightweight fighter who suddenly turned into a super-heavyweight or a half-squib who could barely light a candle but could now burned down a house with a wave of his hand. The borrowed power did have its downsides: it pressured the mind, making me want nothing more than laugh and curse everyone in sight. I couldn't use much magic at all for the past few days. It took all the concentration not to break something, even nonverbal telekinesis crushed objects into dust instead of moving them... And last but not least, "overdosing" could drop me unconscious. Or dead.

Now I could finally stop holding back. The spells flying at Albus would have flattened anyone else in under a second. Previously, Voldemort easily shot out wandless black lightnings. I still could, only with much less power. But after the enhancing rituals I threw five at a time, one from each finger. Each was relatively weak, but together they hit harder than the original. One vaporized an Order goon on the spot.

None of that impressed Albus. Sure, I didn't expect a quick victory. But I thought that cascades of lethal spells would at least inconvenience him... My attacks got parried with power and agility no one would expect from that frail old body. However fast my wand traced three-dimensional shapes -I even vanished all the air around myself to remove friction- Albus's wand followed it like a magnet after metal. And unlike me, he didn't neglect to simultaneously support his people. It felt like we were two giants at an eating contest: I ate all the food on my dish, whereas Albus ate his food, bones and the dish itself...

The others didn't share my problems. Despite the Order outnumbering us, they were clearly losing. "Auxiliary forces" decided everything, and they only had golems. We had roughly the same number of golems plus liches, inferi, Acromantulas, giants, Dementors, and the Obscurus that had once been Ariana...

Like in cliche horror films, a crowd of undead was steadily advancing on the living. The inferi charged head on, the liches cast something from behind their backs. I had to work with what we had on hand: none of my liches came out anywhere close to the Longbottoms and mostly threw around Stupefy, Incendio and Reducto. But the enemy fire and inhumation charms were powerless against their dragon blood-reinforced bodies.

The giants looked even more interesting. Usually, a dozen coordinated hits would be enough to take one down. But when the giant had been bathed in dragon blood, wore clothes covered with protective charms, and carried a defensive amulet the size of a sofa and a club with blood runes by Voldemort... The three giants were outright crushing everything in their path. If it weren't for the Order's unusually durable golems, the fight would have been over a long time ago.

The Death Eaters were impressive. All of the inner circle bathed in the blood of the dragon I killed. I saw Crabbe catch a spell chain from Moody: penetrator- Bombarda Maxima-Reducto. The two blasting curses hit him right in the face, shattered the mask and ripped off most of his clothes. But Crabbe himself merely flew backwards, got up and went back on the offensive. Good thing I had the foresight to make everyone change their appearance with plastification potion... And everyone from the Order fought with open faces... Once we are done here, I'd review the memories to identify them and drop by for a visit.

Most delightful of all were my three demo-versions. I wasn't going to try experimental rituals on myself. The Carrows made a distressing sight. They cast Fiendfyre over and over without losing control over their creations. Fantastic animals of black and red flames ate holes through the Order golem lines. The humans so far avoided critical losses by darting around in jets of smoke, but they couldn't keep it up forever. As for Bellatrix... With insane laughter, she was mincing someone with a blood whip, and that someone was clearly already dead. At the same time, she dropped another enemy with a wandless Cruciatus. Enjoying herself too much to care, she missed a fireball, lightning and restraining charm all at once. Dragon blood proved unnecessary: pumped by the loaned loaned power shields easily blocked everything.

The Obscurus comported itself brilliantly. Even though I failed to enhance it in any way, it was easily worth a third of the army. The raging cloud repeatedly snatched someone from the line and crushed them into ground meat. The golems could do nothing against it, charmed blades passed right through its wraith like body. Maybe a coordinated strike from the entire Order could take it down, but the Death Eaters covered the creature. Separate rays of spells did nothing. Most of the Aurors the phoenix brought were focusing solely on the Obscurus.

There were only two downsides. First, Barty Crouch Sr. had long since authorized the Aurors and Hitwizards to use Dark magic on duty. Having confirmed the standards attacks had no effect, they quickly switched to Killing Curses. Acromantulas were dying left and right, a couple of young Death Eaters who thought themselves invincible calmed down forever. But the number of the Orderers using Dark magic was small, too small to make a difference.

And then there was Albus. His Phoenix Patronus chased away the Dementors and half of Antipatronuses. His stunners dropped Acromantulas in one hit like they were cows. His inhumation charms turned undead soldiers into ordinary corpses several at a time. His Conjunctivitis somehow got through to one giant, and it started rolling on the ground crushing everyone alike. Some golden flashes forced the Obscurus to back off.

A wave of inferi engulfed the enemy's transfigured junk. They ran out of explosive and artifact charges. Moody and his team plugged up the breached spots with Fiendfyre, but it quickly got extinguished. It seemed the enemy was about to be crushed at any moment... Damned Albus looked away for only a second- and an ice storm covered the breach. The undead froze for a brief moment, then shattered into bloody chunks. I could do that too! Well, almost... When given some time to prepare...

This was my chance to strike. Kill him while he was distracted helping his people. I had enough power, after all.

The key problem with most Dark rituals was their ability to pump the subjects with more energy than they could safely use. We found a way around it. To stop me from bursting like an overdone potato, I blocked most of the excess energy with three delimiter artifacts. These artifacts were usually put on gifted children to stop them from accidentally destroying the house during training. We couldn't find three matching neck amulets. Shackles got in the way of casting. Rings interfered with wandless magic. And so, I was forced to wear the only option available: three clip-on earrings...

I tore one of them off, and new energy flowed into me as if from a nearby reservoir. Again fresh and peppy, I picked up the pace, sending out globes of liquid darkness, mental attacks, bursts of raw energy, lightnings, a menagerie of fiery animals... Multiplying attacks did no good. The old man's wrist might as well be made of steel.

I decided to try a more creative approach. Pouring more energy into spells usually made them stronger, but the Killing Curse only flew faster. Mine should outdo a bullet. Since every inch of the space between us was torn by explosions and stray spells that destroyed transfigured shields as soon as they came into existence, I had every right to hope it would kill him.

The curse barely left my wand when Albus cast something I didn't recognize. My shields howled with warnings of outside influence, and I resisted on instinct. A moment later, an Avada missed me by mere inches... Did the old man finally step over his principles? I would've done it a long time ago if I were him.

But it turned out he somehow hijacked my shields and tried to swap our positions. He physically moved us both at supersonic speed during a fight! I would have died from my own Avada... Fortunately, I stopped him from dragging me all the way. The rest of my curses got bogged down in the shields. They weakened but held.

And then the real problems began. A torrent of water rushed straight at me. Boiling, highly pressurized water. I quickly put up additional shields and used the absorbent seeds trick I learned from the Longbottoms. But before they reached the water, it turned into ice... That was how I ended up bound inside a pressurized frozen shell.

Fiendfyre took care of the ice. Struggling to defend myself from the wave of heat, I pushed it all towards Albus. He made two fencing-like thrusts, and the flames died down.

I desperately wanted to hope that Albus was nothing but a leech, to credit it all to the Elder Wand. For example, casting that golden flame. Rabastan had a world-class Light magic teacher, and not even he knew what it was. Deflecting it forced me to take off the second earring.

But that theory fell apart because he did not neglect wandless magic. He was constantly sending stunners at my people, sometimes even without gesturing. And the Orderers received defensive and healing charms.

Wandless magic was the province of a few. Wandlessly casting several different spells at once was incredibly difficult. Wandlessly casting different spells at multiple targets at once was incredibly difficult even for me. And he didn't limit himself to just stunners and healing charms. My kidnapping his brother must have made him very angry...

A wandless air blade charm wouldn't awe anyone, no matter how pressurized. But when the blades were arranged in a runic chain of shield penetration and flew self-guided at my head... While the air and ground around me turned into acid to limit movement... It was hard not to be impressed.

Or the simultaneous attack of opposite elements the Longbottoms tried on me before. But they did it together, with wands! As Albus was weaving something with the wand, he launched fire and ice at me with his free hand. Two opposite elements from one hand, wandlessly! One beam tried to vaporize me, the other freeze to absolute zero. Frost broke the fire shield, fire broke the frost shield. The Universal shield held but was draining a boatload of energy. Its status signals could only be interpreted as "kneel and pray for mercy."

The old man was trying everything under the sun except Dark magic... Magic had its own versions of dividing by zero. For instance, what would happen if you drew the runes of paralysis and repulsion in one spot, fueling them with equal amount of energy? An explosion. Luckily, one that my shields could handle.

All this was stirring up very unpleasant memories... In his travels, Tom had found a teacher who similarly showed preternatural level of control and wandless skills, only in Dark magic instead of pure elements. He was incredibly hard to kill after years of studying under him. Even with Felix Felicis, Tom fought him on equal footing. But Tom was naturally stronger and won by draining the opponent's reserves. The difficulties came from the teacher being 296 years old. When did Albus have the time to match over two centuries of practice? And what would he be like in 50 years? Or 150?

How did he have so much power? If we fought near Hogwarts, I'd have no questions. But here... Accumulator stones? They didn't release their energy instantaneously. It was as though Albus carried Hogwarts in his pocket... My own power was a different matter: we tortured a couple hundred muggles to death and added a Phoenix egg to the sacrifice. (Malfoy got drunk with Snape on the occasion of having to pay for everything.) But where did these withered fingers get so much power?

Two rays, mine green and Albus's red, pressed against each other. Paradoxically, the point of contact was slowly inching towards me regardless of the power I was pouring into it. While Albus's wand stayed busy, I decided to help out my forces by releasing two dozen premade black snakes. Most got dispelled mid-flight, but I definitely got a couple of people.

With these thoughts, I almost caught a Killing Curse. Someone from the Order must have been truly desperate. It didn't fly terribly fast, and I transfigured my midsection into a tunnel to let it through. You didn't have to scream, Bella: the Lord lived, lives and will live forever.

After thinking a bit, I decided to ignite the energy. Both of our rays disappeared. The blast wave moved towards Albus but quickly collapsed into a single dot. I tried to understand what he did. It was as if the explosion reverted back to its starting point...

Albus changed tactics to trying to overwhelm me with numbers. Every wave of his wand conjured multiple golems. Some of them attacked me, some went to help the Order. He was definitely not summoning them from somewhere or taking them out of an expanded space. He was actually transfiguring them from air and dirt! But how? Didn't it violate Gamp's law?! On closer inspection, I saw that no, it did not. He was transfiguring non-magical material, then applying charms to the golems' bodies. All of that almost instantly.

Yes, none of these golems were masterpieces. But they were appearing fast and in large groups. Having forgotten all about attacking, I was channeling Fiendfyre at hundreds of stone-looking golems of every imaginable shape: tigers, lions, badgers, wolves, humans, werewolves... A certain someone should've been a sculptor. By the time I destroyed all that attacked me, Albus had already created new ones. This time, there were only three: a humanoid, a wyvern and a hippogriff. The wyvern rushed one of the giants. Neither the giant's club I personally charmed nor the Death Eaters' spells could do anything to it.

The human and the hippogriff charged at me. To my horror, they passed through the Fiendfyre without slowing down. Cancellation of transfiguration and ramming charms only caused small cracks. Their blows didn't get through my shields, but it was still very unpleasant. I heated the hippogriff from the inside with the same amount of power that would drain someone like Snape unconscious. The golem stumbled. I froze its surface, and the contrast of temperatures cracked the golem into pieces. But every piece continued crawling towards me. Even the lone wing...

To hell with all this. I broke Albus's anti-levitation charms and flew up. The humanoid couldn't fly, the hippogriff couldn't fly in pieces, the wyvern was busy with the giant. Let my servants deal with these abominations.

Albus's wand shot out a strange constellation of spinning disks that were shimmering in and out of existence. The air around me turned into liquid-like fire that made napalm feel like jello. The flames twisted in circular patterns, forming runes of shield neutralization. Eventually, I managed to freeze everything with runes of my own.

I barraged him with curses of euphoria and pain. He blocked and dodged. Only a couple minutes passed, and I was already regretting all of this. Maybe I was just a weakling? But no... Someone from the Order decided to play hero and openly attacked me. Stripping him down to the skeleton felt effortless...

I cut off Albus's attempts to lock me in a diamond sphere and burned some chains glowing with magic before they reached me. For a moment, he stopped his wandless spells. Everything his wand had shown before was nothing. The spell combinations were flying in cascades, destroying my shields. I went on complete defensive, and still continued to miss some. If they were Dark curses, I'd be dead. I frantically shuffled my shields, put up blood ones, but all for naught. The attacks started to get through. One by one, my defensive artifacts deactivated or shattered. And then I got hit with multiple spells usually reserved for stunning dragons. The monstrous force slammed me into the ground. Bella's and Barty's screams rang out somewhere in the background...

But there was a reason I had spent so much effort on rituals and killing a dragon in a fair fight. Dumbledore thought me stunned and began casting restraining charms around me, probably for safe transport to prison. He chose charms so powerful and secure they were only used on stunned highly dangerous prisoners. Their application was easy to foil from the inside, which was exactly what I did.

Getting up from the middle of the crater, I once again had to partially transfigure myself to pass someone's Avada and Fiendfyre. Who was that, sticking out like a sore thumb? I didn't know whether to cruciate them or offer to join us...

The reward for all my hard work was bewilderment in Dumbledore's eyes. I managed to restore most of my shields and went back on the offensive.

The old man continued to surprise: some of my spells were disappearing in a brightly glowing rectangle... They were not deflected or absorbed but actually disappeared. Most of all it resembled highly specialized shields, only the vector of deflection was redirected... Somewhere... But there was no such thing as a universally deflecting shield...

Forty seconds later, I found out the answer. Albus drew another glowing rectangle in the air, this time large enough to fit a carriage. And it let out the spells he captured right back at my forces... And since a great deal of them were Dark, they wrought utter havoc, even killed one of the giants...

Damn, where was Nessie and the rest of my army? They should've come out of the underground complex a while ago...

Clearly upset that he failed to stun me, Albus switched to lethal attacks. No, nothing Dark or banned. Just Reductos with the power of aerial bombs. Cutting charms that could slice a ship in two. Some odd games with gravity: alternating between attempts to tear me apart and collapse me into a dot. Games with magnetism: if it weren't for the specialized shield that saw action for the first time in my life, I would have lost all the iron from my blood. All without a hint of Dark magic! I felt like a victim of a mad scientist and could only hope he wouldn't be able to keep it up for long. I especially didn't appreciate the Web of Time- it would have frozen me for a few years like a fly on a trap paper.

The final accord came in the form of a ramming charm interlaced with something highly reactive. I gathered everything I could in front of me. A shell of ice was stopping me from moving. Something was blocking transfiguration, forcefully holding me in one shape. Dumbledore's mystery spell broke through all of my shields but barely slowed down. All I could do was cover my head with left arm, turning all the blood inside it into an improvised blood shield.

Bella and Barty screamed again.

It was as if my arm got hit with a sledgehammer: multiple open fractures. But it let my head get away with only some minor scrapes. And best of all, everything could be healed because the spell was not Dark! I may not be a healer, but mastery of blood magic helped working with my own body. A moment later, my arm and head were back to normal. Not a single scar.

Albus, your white knighting will be your downfall.

And then happened what I was awaiting all along: my scanning charms have found a way though Albus's mental defenses. Now we could talk..

Legilimency worked like a standard spell, ransacking the enemy's mind while the body stayed put. It was a great technique for one one one fights and prisoner interrogations. But a master of the Mind Arts could achieve the highest level: a temporary transformation into a pure mind. Being in this form subjectively stretched the experience of time an slightly improved mental abilities, but all other magic became unavailable. Wand, potions, rituals and artifacts were useless.

I turned into mist, then into a pure mind and headed right through Albus's shields. It was truly a treat to see his eyes flicker with fear. I knew for a fact he was skilled in it, so I fully expected him to accept the challenge. But he acted foolishly: conjured some blue sphere around his wand, transfigured himself into off-white fog, wrapped around the sphere, an hid behind his people's backs.

Albus was not a coward. Why hide, did he run out of steam? Hiding only weakened him. And what did he do with his wand? I transfigured my wand and clothes along with my body... I could only think of one answer: this transformation excluded anything that had its own mind... While training, I found that I couldn't take my ex-horcruxes with me however much I tried. Then, there was more to Dumbledore's wand than met the eye. He wouldn't have a horcrux, so must truly be the Elder Wand. Dropping it in the middle of a battlefield might constitute changing owners...

A moment later, reality shifted. Dumbledore and I were alone in the place I created especially for him...

* * *

 **Other combatants**

 **Thorfin Rowle**

Rowle loved fighting. Of course, only when his opponents could not retaliate. An this was just the case: he was attacking the Order from a distance and faced no attacks in return. The enemy was far too busy with auxiliary forces.

He watched an Acromantula get hit with what must be the 20th Reducto in a row. It had already lost all the defensive amulets, but the enemy accomplished nothing more than push the spider away and shoot off some of its hairs. Dragon blood was pure power... Some of the inferi were set ablaze with mundane fire. The flames died a moment later, and the undead marched on with surface burns that did not affect them one bit.

Morons, the Order was made up of giant thick-headed morons... How could they not understand they won't survive this without mass use of Killing Curses or Fiendfyre? It felt good to have chosen the right side.

 **Charles Nott**

Nott cursed out his tongue for the hundredth time that day. A long time ago, he got admonished with Cruciatus for complaining to the Dark Lord that they were losing too much magical blood. Nott thought that was the end of it. He couldn't have been more wrong...

The Lord put him in charge of reducing pureblood casualties. So now, while everyone else was fighting, he was searching for Diana Crouch. Who else would the Lord send after a woman under Imperius? Carrow? Bellatrix? They cared for nothing but war. Edward? He was commanding their forces.

Nott was listlessly batting the Order's golems aside with a blood whip in one hand and clearing out the debris with his wand in the other. Finding the woman in this slaughterhouse would've been impossible without a sample of her blood. He soon saw her: roughed up, unconscious, clinging to life only thanks to the artifacts the Lord gave her. What happened here? Chest collapsed under a support beam? As long as she survived, any non-magical damage was trivial. He pointed his wand at the woman, sacrificed a bit of his own blood to stabilize her and placed her into a stasis container for transporting heavily injured. She'd be back on her feet in no time. She did appear to be suffering from some magical ailment, but the Lord said he would cure it. Mission accomplished. Now he could ask Crouch Jr. for something valuable in return for saving her...

 **Lucius Malfoy**

Malfoy considered muggles disgusting animals but never understood the point of killing them. Why waste valuable time? All the muggles alive today would die twice before he grew old.

Despite having a large reserve, Malfoy was not particularly skilled in battle magic. His elm and dragon heartstring wand served him well enough for everyday life, but at the moment, he was using one of the other two he carried in his cane: uglembi and Dementor's bile, his ancestral... His every attack made the enemies tremble. Goyle played the role of his bodyguard, easily blocking the few spells that reached them.

Crabbe had been playing stupid games and would be long dead if it weren't for dragon blood. Instead, he was running around practically naked with someone's spare wand. He shouldn't be recognized after the quality face and body changes they had all undergone... Losing servants was too wasteful even for Lucius.

The easy pace gave him time to contemplate his brilliant future. Until recently, he thought they were beating a dead horse. His only two passions were money and family, neither of which benefited from these sideline activities. But the last few talks with the Dark Lord changed everything. They could take so much from muggles! Honest deals under Imperius! Insider trading via legilimency! Stock exchange under Felix Felicis! Finding new investment opportunities with divination!

The Dark Lord was a genius. He devised the perfect bribe for muggles: unicorn blood. The vampires trapped a unicorn and drained some of its blood- the curse didn't stick unless they touched it. And then the dyed and sweetened blood was gifted to chosen muggles. Healing and life extension combined at low cost of quickly replenished blood. The curse "in this life and after death" didn't take effect immediately, and in several years they could give the muggles another dose. It eliminated the need to search for those who jumped off the hook - they would soon die on their own. And convincing some muggles turned out as easy as animating a crucified statue in church. The last one was very religious and willing to do anything when "God spoke to him through the crucifix."

The Dark Lord has been a delight all around. He spoke of "transnational corporations" whose influence could rival countries and international alliances. The idea of financial hegemony deeply inspired Lucius...

The only issue that remained was his one-child family curse. But he already thought of a solution: if the Lord's student created a ritual to find the untraceable Slughorn, perhaps she was good enough to break the curse? Especially after the Malfoys' attempts weakened over the centuries... He could have asked the Lord, but the Lord was always busy and would demand who knows what in return.

Lost in thoughts about the impending greatness of the Malfoy family, he missed a particularly powerful ramming charm. It knocked him on the ground like a bludger. Had it not been for dragon blood, he'd have injuries... It may be worth buying some from the Lord for personal use. And Goyle was going to get a Crucio for failing at his bodyguard duty. After the fight, that is.

"You can't rely on anyone these days," thought Malfoy, shifting his focus from daydreams back to reality and conjuring a blood shield.

 **Antonin Dolohov**

Today he was not in command. He even earned several rounds of Cruciatus for arguing with the Dark Lord. Dolohov's originally perfect plan had undergone many changes.

First, the Lord said Elena was not to participate. Has he lost his mind? She was worth three Dolohovs! Given a whole month, the Dark Lord and Snape should've healed anything other than death. But even if they haven't, even if she recovered only halfway, her place was here! She should have gone through the ritual instead of Alecto! But the Lord just said no.

Second, Snape was not here either. However mediocre he may be as a soldier, they could use another knowledgeable Dark wizard. But nooo: "he is my spy, he'd be found out." Dolohov hoped Snape was not out there fighting against them because he didn't intend to go easy on anyone.

Third, Rosier was absent. He still hasn't recovered from the rituals. Rosier was not a fighter in the traditional sense, but knowing the place and the time, he could've prepared and given them hell.

But at least they all had excuses, however flimsy. Where was Nott? Why did a master of blood hide somewhere for half the battle? Where was Rodolphus Lestrange? He was not participating at all - the Lord said he was working on a special assignment! And he took all decent liches with him! What assignment during a grand battle?! Why were they missing five people from the inner circle?!

...And where was the team he personally trained?

And then there was Macnair. Macnair, who led a team of ten to chase Dumbledore's bird. Yes, its singing gave everyone a headache. But fucking hell, a powerful wizard and ten average soldiers chasing a bird! And doing such a terrible job that the said bird has already brought in almost two dozen hitwizards and evacuated all the foreigners!

Gibbon was another one demonstrating miracles of impotence. He and eight more candidates for promotion were attacking Moody. And couldn't kill him! Yes, Moody and his entourage didn't shy away from Dark Magic. But you had twice their numbers! Not to mention plenty of puppets to use as a shield!

Dolohov redirected his Fiendfyre towards the stubborn group of Aurors and threw an escalating pain curse at a black guy next to Moody. His favorite curse came out as strong as ever. He'd show these rookie suckers how it's done, watch and learn from a dueling master!

The man easily deflected, and his cohorts put out the flames. Dolohov entered a duel, no, a fight with a woman. She tried to bring him down with stunning charms. A weakness to stunners had plagued his entire life, but the new amulets absorbed every hit. It looked like the woman was about to fumble from the insane rhythm and catch one of his Killing Curses...

But before he could end her, he got suddenly knocked off his feet by an inferus someone accelerated with a ramming charm. He blasted the still moving corpse off, got up and charged back into the thick of the battle...

 **John Jackson form the Order of the Phoenix**

Despite his O in Defense, Jackson has never been a fighter. And now he was at a loss: why were the inferi not burning? Why did his cancellation of transfiguration not work on the enemy golems? He would have understood if it were only him, but most of his allies did not fare any better. Most of their spells only threw the enemies back.

He stood behind a line of the Order's golems and threw blasting curses into the ocean of enemies around them. Nothing he did produced any effect.

One Acromantula spat poison at him from fifty yards away. The golems shielded him, but there was no time to catch a breath as many sticky threads flew straight at them. He and two golems got caught in a web and pulled out of formation. A bull-sized Acromantula passed through his shields as though they didn't exist. He aimed his wand at the beast's eye and clearly pronounced "Arania Exumae."

Just like in class, his wand shot out a pale blue light harmful to arachnids. He harbored no illusions: killing an Acromantula with a single spell was beyond him. But it should cripple the spider's head, giving him an opportunity to escape. But the Acromantula reacted no more than if it had been squirted with water. The last thing John felt was spider jaws entering his eyes.

 **Arthur Weasley**

Arthur Weasley fought to the best of his ability. Even if his spells couldn't take down the enemies, he was contributing to the group effort of stopping them. At the moment, he was repeatedly blasting back a snake-shaped steel golem.

Weasley knew a lot about muggles. Among the books he read was a handbook of international steel standards. He knew exactly how muggles branded their steel. And now he was seeing a muggle stamp on You-Know-Who's golem! He realized he must be under some sort of mental influence. What if he was under Imperius and fighting his friends?

While he was distracted with casting mind-clearing spells on himself, a snake made of black smoke appeared out of nowhere and passed right through his defenses. He collapsed, bleeding out. But luck was on his side: someone flung his opponents off. Instead of the final blow, he felt the charms commonly used for transporting the injured.

"I hope Dumbledore will cover the hospital bill," he thought before falling unconscious.

 **Mundungus Fletcher**

Mundungus Fletcher loved bragging over a beer that he was in the Order of the Phoenix. Money was money, and this "spy work" meshed nicely with fencing stolen cauldrons. He mostly gathered information, listened to rumors, drank at pubs...

But what idiot decided he must join them in battle? Why? Somewhere on his right echoed powerful blasts of magic- that was Albus fighting You-Know-Who. More than anything, it seemed like a tie... Fuck, and everyone always said You-Know-Who feared Albus. It sure didn't look like it now.

Fuck'em all... In this mess, he'd get trampled to death before a single spell reached him. That black cloud alone would turn anyone's hair white.

He'd long ago learned the cardinal rule of life: stay far away from trouble. Too bad apparition got cut off... He continued casting occasional stunners in between renewing his Protego. He already made a decision: run as soon as the battle ends. Run and hide. The Order would do just fine without him.

 **Minerva McGonagall**

McGonagall was one of the top specialists in transfiguration. When she saw You-Know-Who's golems, she expected an easy win. Strangely, cancellation of transfiguration didn't work, and neither did transfiguring the enemies into something harmless. She resorted to what she categorically forbade her students: transfiguring liquids and gases. It was all right, everyone here had air filtration or bubblehead charms.

With one wave of her wand, the air around several Acromantulas turned into mercury. They stumbled and started to suffocate. But the enemy wizards countered it with medical charms for clearing out the airways and canceled the transfiguration. The spiders got up, resuming their attack.

She transfigured a large patch of the ground into water. The Acromantulas and inferi sunk down, and the water turned into granite.

A couple of cancellation, liquefying and levitation charms later, the enemy crawled out of the trap.

Perhaps try permanent transfiguration?

One of the spiders got locked inside a solid rock. An enemy Diffindo set it free within a second. She tried cutting them with transfigured blades, but it felt like trying to scrape a rock wall. Her powerful blasting curses covered a large area, but the Acromantulas and inferi got back up none worse for wear...

She wished Albus would hurry up and take care of You-Know-Who. They needed his help.

 **Robert Abrogast**

Robert was cursing the day he joined the Order of the Phoenix. It might as well be a nunnery- he wanted nothing more than to screw the prudes.

He didn't have much of a choice. Most of the money was lost with the base, the leftovers went towards finding the traitor. Revenge had led him to England. It turned out to be a country of puritans. He read their laws with growing horror.

He was able to remain unnoticed long enough to kill a number of Death Eater dregs, and one with the Mark. Then he got a lead on a team of drug dealers. That was much harder. He had to fall back on Fiendfyre, but killing three Death Eaters was worth it. The Aurors came... He often regretted not burning them with Fiendfyre too, he would have surely escaped... But no, he took pity on them. Stunners didn't last long against five, so the result was obvious: arrest and imminent Azkaban. All because he was a Dark wizard! He had already lost all hopes of escaping when Barty Crouch Sr. and Albus Dumbledore came to his "rescue." They forced him to join the Order under very inconvenient vows. The alternative was life in Azkaban for triple murder with Fiendfyre...

No, Albus was badass to take down enemies left and right with stunners. What was his secret? Elixir of Life in lemon drops? But jokes aside, not everyone was this talented! He already hit four, and they weren't fazed! If those were Killing Curses... Murder mutilates the soul? Are you out of your mind, old fart? Dark magic is no more dangerous than dark beer: know your limits, don't use the Killing Curse on mosquitoes, don't torture postal owls.

He wouldn't complain if there was an agreement: you don't AK us, we don't AK you. But only next to him, two had already died from it! Moody was lucky- Auror on duty, curse to your heart's content. What were the rest of them supposed to do, choose between death and jail? Whatever, Albus got him off once, he could do it again...

He fell into the familiar rhythm, only this time his team was not fighting next to him. And they never will again... The euphoria of the fight finally drowned out the pain.. He slept through the start of the assault on their base like an idiot. The mistake burned his heart with unbearable pain of loss. But he'd avenge them! Right now! Fighting the Death Eater scum filled him with blind rage he had not felt in decades. Of course, he killed more than once, but one could not muster the same hatred for money. It was only a job. But now, as if sensing his mood, his spells grew stronger than ever.

He just had to squash the urge to get tangled with Voldemort. He obviously knew they were in different weight classes, but Voldemort's power still astounded. Coming anywhere near that was suicide. But no matter. A patient hunter always waited out his prey. One time Voldemort faced Albus in a contest of raw power, the two rays pushing against each other. Robert used the opportunity to throw a Killing Curse at Voldemort, who demonstrated an interesting defense method. Must be bullshitting about his immortality...

He learned his lesson: concentrated attacks were not enough. When Albus slammed Voldemort into the ground, there was an opening for another Killing Curse and Fiendfyre. The beat up Dark Lord survived again...

He'd readily vow under Veritaserum that Voldemort was not human. Just look at that face- mother had a threesome with a crocodile and a Basilisk! The Unforgivables were only illegal to use against humans, so he was clean in the eyes of the law. And if he killed Voldemort, the Brits would wait in line to kiss his ass. Moody himself would defend him from the Aurors. They'd probably even forgive him an orgy with McGonagall and Sinistra in the Headmaster's office... Dreams, dreams... The "Dark wizard" stigma made English women avoid him like the plague.

He didn't let these thoughts distract him from the battle. The Order gained its own Dark wizard, but unlike the figures in masks, he was sane. Instead of going berserk, he forged his fury into a deadly sword to crush the enemy. There was no room for fear, doubt or lack of spirit. He felt as though he drank Felix Felicis: ready to make an impossible leap without a moment's hesitation, dodge before his senses registered the danger...

He's always been a powerful wizard. And a skilled one. And brave enough to use Dark magic. Among the entire Order, only Moody fought better than him. He generously fed hatred to Dark spells like they were beloved pets. The magic responded, showing the Death Eater scum all its might. Flashes of black lightning were killing the spiders, fire burned the undead by the dozen and turned golems into melted globs of metal for him to hurl at the Death Eaters. His spider Antipatronus tore through Dementors, and Ekrizdis's Shackles destroyed an enemy wolf Antipatronus.

Dark magic was pure power. Only morons believed all Dark wizards must be evil. Whatever Voldemort had done to protect his people, it wasn't saving them from a good dose of Dark spells. Sure, he was in for an unpleasant conversation with Albus... But what's the problem? Albus said not to use certain spells against humans, and he didn't. If he did anything wrong, the vow would've stopped him.

A careless Death Eater, who either put too much trust into his shields or thought the golems would cover him, received a guillotine charm. His head rolled before he realized he was dead. Fuck, the Death Eaters were protected much better than their puppets, that felt like beheading a troll... He needed something more lethal and less draining than cutting charms... Another Death Eater fell to his close combat skills with a ritual knife.

The enemy forces were suffering large losses around him. If all of the Order fought like this, they would've already won. But their fucking Puritanism.. Would they rather die than use decent magic?

The winning streak didn't last. Before long, he found himself the center of the Death Eaters' attention. Half-bakes swats got replaced by fully lethal Dark magic from specialists who long had personalized cells waiting for them in Azkaban. The endless wave of undead marched on over the burned remains of their predecessors.

Most Death Eaters preferred not to risk their skin, but a few attacked him openly. Trying score points for something? He faced blood needles, meteorites, fire... A deranged female Death Eater with a blood whip took an especially keen interest in him. Simultaneously, the commander he had yet to locate sent in new Acromantulas and golems. Their numbers were fantastically low compared to the beginning -thanks, Moody- but they still outnumbered the Order's forces...

Cursing under his breath, Robert decided that if he survives this, he'd spend the last of his money at a brothel. He threw up a blood shield and sent a ramming charm at the cackling Death Eater who was still wildly swinging her blood whip... Damn it, Albus, why was it fine to use a blood whip to chop up Acromantulas but not Death Eaters? Just why?

 **Barry Crouch Jr.**

Barty was staying away from the action. He sat surrounded by golem bodyguards and channeled his source's might at the enemy. He had already done the cutting wind and acid rain... A simple firestorm should do some good.

This, of course, glaringly proved that someone from the Crouch family was a Death Eater. But the Dark Lord said it was for the best... For now, Barty's only concern was clearing out the tunnels to help their reserves join the fight.

 **Rodolphus Lestrange**

Rodolphus didn't take part in the battle. He stood far away, fruitlessly trying to see through the wards. They took weeks to prepare but would hold at most an hour... Somewhere in there, his wife was reveling in the carnage. He dearly hoped she would return unscathed...

Rodolphus was fulfilling a special assignment and contemplating the Dark Lord's glory. Master told him to capture Barty Crouch Sr. No one truly expected the ritual to succeed in transporting the unconscious body. Now Rodolphus was waiting on the coordinates of Crouch's location. The plan was simple: when Crouch removed his protective charms, they began tracking him; as soon as they lose him, Rodolphus would go to the last known location with an strike team. Not to distract anyone from the battle, it was decided he should go alone with eight liches.

Though, one question remained: how was he to get through the wards? But the Dark Lord was the greatest wizard to ever live. He gave Rodolphus his familiar for assistance. A Phoenix... Truly, the Lord was omnipotent! What an honor to receive such a special sign of trust!

Recently the Lord voiced a desire to join the Lestrange family... Such a shame that they had no women in the family. They might have solved the high chance of death in an adoption, but the requirement for the adoptee to be weaker than the head of family made everything impossible.

When the coordinates popped up, he and his squad disapparated in Phoenix flame. They reappeared inside a warded house. Honestly, Rodolphus could have done this all by himself: only three guards, none of them too bright. Once they were dead, he set the house on fire and left with still unconscious Crouch Sr.

Back home, he locked the man in a cell under the Draught of the Living Death. Now he could only wait for the results of the battle as the Lord forbade him from exposing the phoenix. He thought to go check on Neville. Why was Bellatrix so enamored with the chubby brat? No, better do it later. First, make sure Rosier doesn't muck up the return ritual. The man constantly reported material over-expenditure... What was he doing with all those muggles, eating them?

 **Walden Macnair**

Macnair thought trapping a bird would be a walk in the park. How wrong he was...

The phoenix appeared and disappeared in random spots. They managed to catch it twice: in a net and a specially charmed sphere. Dumbledore saved it every time. At one point, the thing got caught in an area curse, almost looking like it would rot away in mid-air. But no, it shed some tears and kept flying like nothing happened. Didn't even bother with rebirth.

But this couldn't last forever. Something inside him itched, urging to send a Killing Curse at a very specific spot. He didn't resist the luck potion and cast the curse into empty air. A moment before the green ray hit the ground, the Phoenix appeared in its path. The bird fell apart into ashes. His team instantly covered the newborn Phoenix with multilayered domes and conjured a Well of Darkness. One rebirth, second, third...

Dumbledore ruined everything again. A flash of light destroyed the barriers, a silver ray grabbed the bird and pulled it into the old man's pocket.

Well, they'd done their basic duty: the enemy would receive no more reinforcements. Too bad the bloody bird had already brought in two dozen Aurors. For now, he and his team needed to join the fight.

 **A team of Death Eaters not participating in the battle**

John Murdock and six others didn't really understand what they were doing. There was a time when their dubious blood status kept away from important missions. Recently they, as "the most gifted out of the most useless," received battle training. Even though none of them yet earned the Dark Mark, they clearly felt their progress.

Dolohov promised them an opportunity to prove themselves in battle. But instead, they were exploring some magical anomalies and running around with a compass full of someone's blood. All under command of a house elf!

No, it made sense: right now Dumbledore and the Ministry had their hands too full to notice an unusual pattern of scanning charms. But what his team supposed to find among a dozen magical objects all within the same sixty mile radius?

His thoughts were cut short by the shrieking house elf, who saw their readings and screamed "We found it!"

 **Alastor Moody**

For the first time in his life, Moody regretted not retreating before the battle began. Why not? Albus would've covered them and escaped by Phoenix. Instead, they got goaded into a grand battle.

It started not too bad. The Death Eaters' forces outnumbered theirs, but that was always a given. It quickly became apparent, however, that the strange glow surrounding the opponents was impervious to ordinary spells. Alastor immediately ordered to hit with Unforgivables.

There was only one problem: most of the Order were not Aurors and knew no Dark spells whatsoever. Instead of steady walls of Fiendfyre, the enemy faced sparse little campfires. The Death Eaters' troops flooded the gaps between them. He signaled Albus for help, and an ice storm stopped the breach. They held strong for a good while thanks to artifacts and Alastor's muggle explosive surprises. He shoved a brick of TNT into one of the giants' mouth with telekinesis- the explosion killed it on the spot. The second giant got hit with Albus's Conjunctivitis, and they finished it off with Fiendfyre. The giant burned slowly, almost reluctantly.

When their own golem numbers dwindled dangerously low, Albus created several hundred more. Taking advantage of the break, they thinned out the Dementors, and Kingsley's team pushed the Obscurus away from the main crowd. Albus's wyvern took on the last giant, two more unkillable golems joined it. Things were looking up... But then Voldemort vanished, and Albus froze in a partial transformation between his people. They all had to focus on protecting Dumbledore from the Death Eaters.

And all this time, Moody was watching the movements below. He couldn't draw too many runes underground to collapse the tunnels... Too bad the phoenix striked out, it was doing a fine job at throwing explosive artifacts down there. Where did Albus get so many, anyway?

By far the most concerning was the shape that looked like a giant snake. But Alastor was fully prepared to meet a Basilisk! He brought real, live roosters! And they would sing under Imperius! And he brought rue! Sixteen hundredweight of it to throw in the Basilisk's mouth! And he remembered how to cast Fiendfyre!

Moody ordered everyone to switch to echolocation charms. Pity the civilians didn't know them. Oh well, his team would kill the snake before it kills too many of them. But, as the previous Head Auror said shortly before he died, shit happens. From under the ground, or rather under the water, rose something much larger than a basilisk. Yes, it didn't have the same lethal gaze or unearthly poison. But they still had a colossal problem: the beast was crushing everything like a live battering ram. To top it all, it somehow controlled water. As if Death Eater attacks were not enough already, they got bombarded with house-sized balls of water.

Logically assuming that its eyes must be the weakest spot, Alastor targeted them with Fiendfyre. But the beast's head was covered in defensive blood runes and glowed the same as the Death Eaters. His magical eye saw a strong source of energy on the snake's forehead, protected by layers of... goblin armor?

The roosters and rue were useless. The fire got put out by Death Eaters before it reached the snake's eyes and only angered it. Fire, cutting and blasting curses wounding its body below the glowing head did nothing to solve the problem. The beast was losing blood but continued to attack with the same vigor.

And then the tunnels vomited new Death Eater forces: twenty large golems and hundreds of small ones followed by new Acromantulas and inferi. Luckily, almost none of these glowed. But there was not much cause for celebration: he'd been too hasty to call Albus's golems unkillable. A giant snake swallowed the wyvern. The humanoid golem was dunked into a dark puddle, where it slowly dissolved. The remains of the hippogriff were pulled apart and buried. The large enemy golems were taking losses but still breached the Order's line, dividing the previously united group into small teams. And then these teams got swarmed with cannon fodder.

As the saying went, don't despair if your life is going through a rough patch - you'd soon realize it was a smooth patch. They fought back, but the current conditions made winning impossible. Moody kept stealing glances at the ward dome. The Ministry reinforcements only needed to break through three layers. The question was, who would they find underneath?


	33. The Battle at Crouch's Manor, Pt 2

A mindscape was a peculiar place for a fight. Here, the advantage in willpower and conjured imagery mattered at least as much as magical power. A vision that would drive someone insane might only bring a laugh out of another.

I counted on intelligently applying pressure to Albus's weak spots. He would see the looping scene of Ariana's death I pulled out of his brother's memories while I stand aside invisible and watch him go insane. And when he has finally lost the will to live, I would appear behind his back and stab him with a knife.

As always, the reality didn't meet my expectations. The old man stood in the image of his family home but was not seeing the nightmare!

The thought to try to finesse the stabbing right away left me as quickly as it came. I was afraid: even on his deathbed, Albus would be completely capable of taking his killer with him.

I couldn't come near him and became visible against my will. The killing curse I tried to cast at him did not come out.

He was smiling.

"Tom? Interesting... You... Here," he stammered, overcoming the mental pressure and hallucinations. "Don't bother trying. You wanted to leave me defenseless.. Now neither of us can attack."

It was again back to improvising... I grinned back at him and demonstratively threw away my wand and ritual dagger. When the clacking stopped, I replied:

"I am not an idiot, Dumbledore. There is not a person alive capable of defeating you. Not with your Elder Wand."

"I don't need a wand, Tom."

I inched towards him along the wall. All I could do was search for the weakest point under the guise of persuading him. He must have been doing the same. In the meantime, it would be best to distract or rattle him... And turn up the drama so he wouldn't notice the Lord had changed. After all, it was classic: the "bad guy" lays out his plans and lures to his side...

"Yet you still carry your weapon as a servant when you could be king."

"It has never been my desire."

"Right..." I remained silent for a moment, stepping around the room in an attempt to sense his thoughts. "So devoted and full of self-depreciation... You haven't changed at all. How regretful that your father had no time to raise you differently. You could have achieved so much more."

"I already have everything I need."

"Your growth had been stunted. You were cut off from ambitions at far too young an age."

"Don't try to distract me, Tom. And don't provoke me. You will not be able to attack. And when we return, there be one less Dark Lord in the world."

Still smiling, I slowly walked towards him. What was he planning, really?

"I want to open your eyes to the brilliant prospects of our cooperation," I said. "I propose we change the world. I am sure that together we can achieve anything, even bring back your family. I revived Ariana's body. Together, we can return her soul. We should also discuss the terms of your brother's release."

"Why do you need all this power, Tom? You don't love anyone, you have no one to bring back. What is the point of all the Dark Magic, rituals, sacrifices? What were you missing? A throne? You could have easily become the Minister of Magic, then manipulated your constituents to declare you the king or whatever it is you want to be. Why all the murders? No, you are insane, and that's the end of it. I am very, very sorry, but nothing can be done."

"And whose fault is it? Nature or environment? Is it my heritage? Then you are wrong in your claim that people create their own destiny. Environment? Then you too are responsible for what is happening," that's right, I'm not evil. Life has forced my hand. "We are all insane to some degree, in our own special ways. Honestly, only a madman or a sloth would waste the perfect starting conditions we've been given. It is only natural to use our magic and longevity to gain a little more and rise above others. In me this quality merely developed to the maximum, that's all. And you, Albus? You are a collective caricature of wizards in your dogma of non-interference. Thousands of years ago, wizards were flying on brooms, traveling in time and creating expanded spaces while muggles were barely above animals, fought with sticks, picked each other's fleas and lived in hovels. Now muggles fly in planes and explore space, but we still fly on brooms! We are stagnating, and you tout non-interference! From this perspective, what I've done is meaningless. Albus, why does it matter how many people die? Once we discover the secrets of magic, we will be able to resurrect anyone and everyone. Imagine a world without death, a world where people are gods... And you and I will simply be little above the rest."

"First of all, it's impossible. Second, even if you achieved it, what would be the punishments in your world? A million years of Cruciatus? All prehistoric humans feeding Dementors? Or you would be the one deciding who lives and for how long?"

"Come with me, Albus, and we will decide together. Sometimes, goals demand a steep price. Take a look at your own actions. You called everyone you had into battle. Many of them have families and children. The differences between us are minuscule."

"No, Tom. There is one step between us, but it is a step through a brick wall. I never kill unless there is no other way. We are fundamentally different. Means are just as important as goals because you must live with what you've done. Insane or not, you have gone too far. If you had a shred of humanity in you, you would have stopped. Flamel was always wiser than both of us: he excluded himself from this pointless game of power-grabbing. How many more decades do you need to finally grow up?"

"You know very well I am capable of things others don't dare dream of," I answered. "If you have an impossible wish, you need only say it, and I'll show you how wrong you were about me. I have learned to do things beyond your wildest imagination. I'm certain I can bring back your sister's soul. Don't fool yourself, old man: everyone has a price. Only not everyone measures it in money."

Albus gave me another one of his trademark charming smiles.

"You chose the wrong method," he said. "I can achieve anything I want myself."

"Was that the reason why you stood before the Mirror of Erised and saw your family? How much time did you spend staring in it? Minutes, hours, days, weeks? Years? I can truly bring them back! Not as a moving pictures, not as necromantic abominations!" I roared and stopped abruptly. Wait, what if I really could? The Resurrection Stone must serve some function. What if Flamel knew how to use it? A ritual of some sort? Maybe try testing it during Solstice... "The Mirror gives everyone a phantom of their dream. I am talking about reality! Magic! Power! Immortality! Knowledge! Not daydreams!"

"If I wanted more than I already have, I'd know exactly what to do. As you can see, I have yet to do anything," he said.

A hint at the Hallows? Tom would only be interested in the wand. But I'd find a use for them. I had the stone, Albus had the wand. If I found the cloak, maybe I would catch the old fool with his pants down.

"Have yet to do anything? Then who preserved Ariana's body? You wanted to resurrect her, but you lacked the knowledge, skill and bravery!" I laughed with Riddle's mad cackle. Might as well play the part all the way... "You were too afraid to take a risk! It almost seems like I am a brave Gryffindor, and you are a slippery Slytherin who is too afraid to get his hands dirty!"

I laughed again and moved forward. I've already tested over a third of space in the room.

"You are an utter fool to willingly wear these shackles! But if you have no desire to possess or rule, what would you say to knowledge? I have grasped the wisdom of True Magic, mastered every facet of the Dark Arts. I have gone far beyond that and paid a heavy price for divining the essence of the Universe. And you can receive this knowledge for free!"

"Everything has a price. I refuse to pay this one."

I only shook my head at him. Suddenly, the image of the house vacillated, as if a cloud momentarily passed over the moon. Everything darkened, then returned to its previous realism. The old man just made a forceful attempt to escape. And failed.

"Yes, you are speaking your mind," I continued, pretending not to notice the eclipse. He was strong. I couldn't even sense his thoughts, much less access them. It felt like speaking to a suit of armor. "Albus, you're too good of a person to waste yourself on this mess of a world, to defend what is doomed to fail. Know this: I will win. I will replace the old world order with something new. I will finish what you and Grindelwald began, and your support would mean a lot. I want to create a world where magical and muggle societies intertwine. There, you can find yourself work to your taste: eat lemon drops surrounded by family and friends, teach students, research new magical phenomena, command billions of muggles and wizards, lead the most powerful nation the universe has ever seen. You-"

"If your world will be as perfect as you say, Tom, then why does it need a ruler? And if it merely reflects the mind of its creator, I think it'll be much worse than our current reality. I appreciate your generous offer, but I serve the world that exists here and now."

"You are a fool, Albus! I understand that you have good intentions, but you are an absolute fool!"

"Perhaps you want to tell me something about concentration camps and power next?" The skepticism in his voice was unbearable.

"No. I will not repeat the mistakes of my predecessors. All Dark Lords failed for one reason: they were predators. They killed, obsessed with sacrifices to gain power. They loathed the weak yet could not survive without them. They killed the unworthy and eventually ran out of people to sacrifice. If any of them followed their path to the end, the result would've been the same every time: a single super-wizard in the void. But I will become the perfect symbiote. Every day, millions of cattle are killed, endless trees are cut, muggles kill one another. We will sell them weapons and instruments with a small brand logo in the shape of runes for gathering sacrificial energy. And the receiver can sit in the Department of Mysteries... Of course, the efficiency of such a flawed ritual would be barely above zero, but these tiny drops will gather into rivers of energy. And with it, we can change the world! The muggles won't notice anything, we will merely be collecting leftovers..."

"Tom, you've completely lost your mind. Every fallen soldier will be replaced by a new one! Sooner or later the entire world will unite against you!"

"Is that so? I don't need to kill muggles or muggleborns. They are afraid to speak my name! Kill dozens, and you are declared a deranged murderer. Kill millions, and you receive an international coalition. But I do not wage war with golems. Fear is my sword, anonymity is my shield-"

"I've seen many maniacs in my life, but you break through the rock bottom time and time again," Albus interrupted.

"I am aware of the negative effects of Dark Magic on the mind. I can measure them. I assure you, Albus, I'm completely sane."

With a force of my will, the air between us lit up with the schematics of measuring "necroenergy" from Dark spells.

"I assure you, Albus, it is possible to practice the Dark Arts and remain true to yourself. Come with me, and I will show you the safe way to use Dark Magic, to keep your soul clean."

To be honest, that one was an outright lie. I knew of no such way. But I was working on it, right?

"Impressive that you were able to rediscover it. This knowledge is extremely rare but not unique. It doesn't change anything. I am on the side of truth, not profit. And if you really are sane, it only increases the gravity of your crimes. I will not allow you to take away people's freedom."

"Listen, why haven't you just Avada'd me?" I couldn't help but finally ask. "You hit me twice. I'm sure landing a killing curse would not be too difficult for you. Are you too much of a coward to stain your soul?"

"I already told you, I don't wish you evil."

"Yet you are still prepared to fight and even kill me in punishment for my deeds?"

Albus nodded silently.

"Admit it, you're just afraid of me. Aren't you, Albus? Afraid to acknowledge that your actions created two Dark Lords in one century. You know that you made a bad first impression on me at the orphanage, that you shouldn't have invaded my mind... Yes, you really are afraid."

Albus did not reply.

"More than that, you are afraid to get blood on your hands," I continued. "I may be the scary Voldemort to everyone else, but to you I am still the lost little orphan Tom..."

"Do you not fear the blood you spill?"

"What's the point? None of them were immortal. This way, their otherwise useless lives served my goals. If you care so much about them, let us sit at a conference table and develop a resurrection ritual," I offered again.

I was really tempted to show him the Resurrection Stone. But it wouldn't make him any more cooperative, and I did not need to give him another reason to wish me death.

"In the past," I continued, remembering his speech to Horace, "I didn't understand why you believe some things are worse than death. Death doesn't terrify you- it is like putting out the light. You are afraid of losing yourself. Afraid to use Dark magic and change without realizing it... Albus, are you truly this selfish? Is defeating the horrible Voldemort not worth the soul of one old man?"

"You listen to my offer now. You release my brother an all the prisoners. Dissolve your organization. In return, I promise you a fair trial without the death sentence or the kiss. Every Death Eater gets a comfortable cell for life. And I will regularly visit you in Nurmengard. I can't promise you eternity - you will die the same day I do. If you truly are in your right mind, you must understand that this is the best solution."

I threw my head back and laughed.

"What a noble speech! You have always been noble, Albus! Almost a regular king! You make me feel ashamed next to your magnanimity! But I have one question: do you realize your own hypocrisy? You are against Dark Magic? Of course you don't need it, you easily win without it. Of course you are against the Killng Curse, it is the only thing that has a chance at killing you. Not everyone can topple an acromantula with a single Stupefy. You don't need power? Then what are you doing in one of the world's best wizarding schools, atop of the most powerful source in the Isles? Indeed, why would you care about magic sources, you already have the best one! You are not interested in power and knowledge? Then why do you have the Elder Wand? It doesn't jump into people's hands on its own. Who gave you the right to decide what books are kept in the Hogwarts library? Did you really destroy some? Given these conditions, even I can be a paragon of Light and virtue. You pretend to be benevolent but are not even trying to save your brother. And I wonder, just whose Avada killed Ariana?"

"Enough-" Albus began, but his voice was cut off.

Wonderful. However little, a burst of emotion should help me break through his defenses. I only just found a fault line ideal for influence. Nothing I said to him made the slightest sense. Regular meaningless banter. A distracting maneuver before the major attack. I used the time it gave me to partially reconfigure this little imaginary world. Now we were both watching the scene from Aberforth's memories, unable to interfere.

"Oh, Albus... What good are your skills if you can't even save the people you love most? Like I said, you are an idiot. But I sincerely wish you would accept my offer. Be a Hufflepuff: save your loved ones. Be a Ravenclaw: learn the secrets of Dark Magic. Be a Slytherin: gain power over hearts and minds. Be a Gryffindor: use your power to make a real difference. Death is the next great adventure? Then go kill yourself and get out of my way. If you would rather live, don't interfere with my work and join me."

"No. I refuse!" he shouted, and the world began to dissolve like morning fog. The scene of Ariana's death was blown away by a gust of wind.

"Maybe you will be more cooperative if you see my offer with your own eyes?"

The void swallowed us both. I tried my best to project happiness and care. Like helpless ghosts, Albus and I watched the scene I prepared: another version of Albus drinking tea on the porch of his house. He was surrounded by his happy family: mother, father, brother, sister...

"Do you really not want to bring them back?" I challenged.

"GET OUT!" he screamed, and I got blown away.

I activated the next illusion. This time, I was broadcasting the exhilaration of battle. We stood on a battlefield as disembodied spectators, watching another option of what could happen if Albus accepted my offer. Not a real future, just a movie I created...

Dumbledore was fighting against the Dark Lord and all his servants. Gone was the old man in a colorful dress- Albus now looked like a twenty year old athlete with massive muscles rippling under powerful armor. But it was his magic that changed the most. He was surrounded by an unnatural, sickly glow that writhed and twisted into malicious runes. Albus no longer belonged to this reality. He existed in every dimension at once, shimmering like a ghost, disappearing and reappearing in a haze.

"Perhaps you want to sacrifice yourself to stop me? With Dark Magic, the Elder Wand, rituals, and disregarding the presumption of innocence, you would restore order to Britain in a single day. And none of your people have to be harmed!"

Albus from the vision raised his hand at the Death Eaters. Their bodies lit up with alternating Light and Dark energies, then started releasing putrid gases like contracting bellows. Shadowy tentacles appeared out of nowhere and instantly ripped apart dozens of giants. Fiery explosions tore the ground here and there, destroying the inferi..

"Weak, Tom. Very weak," the real Albus said. "Although in a muggle film, you would've taken all the awards for special effects."

Albus waved his hand, and before us appeared a window into the real world.

"Look here, Tom," he pointed at Bellatrix fighting on Crouch's doorstep. "Dark magic is not a solution, it is the problem itself. These are not the mighty warriors of antiquity. They are not teams who trained and lived together, who gave vows to serve and protect, who fought dragons and sea serpents or stopped the onslaught of demons at the Departnent of Mysteries with their own bodies. They don't care who they target, they only crave violence. They are not warriors but demons and vultures, laughing and throwing killing curses without taking the time to aim. Instead of armored helmets with open faces, you have chosen intimidating masks of death. You've become a plague, and it is my duty to stop it."

I felt a mental attack. The vision dissolved, but I had another one ready.

I tried to convey the feelings of curiosity and joy of knowledge. We were at Hogwarts. Dumbledore sat at a desk covered with stacks of books and was writing something on a piece of parchment. But the books were not on transfiguration. Possessing any one of them would earn the kiss.

"Albus, I am offering you the full knowledge-"

"Leave it for yourself!" Albus answered, and the vision disappeared again. I moved on to the next one.

I projected attention and admiration. We were standing in front of a crowd hailing Albus for his victory in battle. The enemy forces -for the greater good- had been turned into a graveyard of dead flesh and metal sprawling from horizon to horizon. Albus, indistinguishable from the real version, towered over his kneeling warriors.

"You are called the most powerful wizard of the modern era," I reminded. "Do you not want for it to last forever? We can extend your life indefinitely. And the mortals... We can guide them with either force or intrigue."

"Lord Dumbledore!" The crowd chanted. "Albus the White!"

No, not chanted. It was a prayer... They bowed, cried, and begged Albus to give them the tiniest scrap of his godly attention. It was-

"Wrong!" Albus growled. "I never tried to elevate myself or appear perfect in the eyes of others. It is you who are doomed and cursed. I never lived like this and never will. Get out!"

The vision changed again. I was giving him the feelings of power. Albus's double sat in the Minister's chair. Power viscerally flowed through his veins with every beat of the heart. It was much greater than the laughable powers of immortality or pleasure. It extended far beyond the Minister's chair. Thanks to Dark magic, Albus could see probabilities with laser-like precision. The silly commoners thought he didn't hear their whispers about his abilities. Let them praise him under their breath. He did not need open worship.

Albus reclined back in his chair, his thoughts diving into the abyss of infinite possibilities. Destinies unraveled in his hands like obedient strings of yarn. Every string led to a certain outcome, and they unfolded before his eyes as soon as he willed it. He wielded absolute power over the future itself...

"The future is not predetermined!" Albus said, and the vision rippled.

"Yes, I know it changes with our choices. But together, we will find a way to see probabilities. Look at the gifts of Dark magic!" I cried out furiously and desperately. "Look at the power I am offering! Don't waste your only chance!"

"Go to hell!"

I felt myself losing control over the visions. There was so much more in store for him, and I wasn'to ready yet... 'Well, here goes nothing,' I thought, transforming my body.

Albus made no attempt to dodge. He took the shape of a prickly red tumbleweed that tasted like butterbeer as it broke through my mental defenses. I reeled back from multiple punctures. It left me feeling exposed as an oyster whose shell was cracked at a dinner table.

Trying not to gag on the stench of my own mental wounds, I fixed my shields and rushed Albus again, stabbing skewers of mental energy into his red and gold phoenix form.

He screeched. The blast wave rattled the wooden benches and shattered the windows of Dumbledore's house. I pushed the spikes deeper and turned into a hedgehog with many more long needles. The phoenix sang and broke loose from my grip, breaking them. He soared into the sky.

I chased after him in the form of a winged creature somewhat resembling a rotting Horntail, but it could hardly be described in only four dimensions. The long, stringy whips I shot out in front of me caught up with Albus. They ripped through his hurriedly erected defenses and frayed the edges of his mind. In return, he showered me with scorching phoenix tears.

I turned into a ritual knife and stabbed the phoenix. The bird fell apart into ashes. Albus stood up from the pile in his human form.

He was shivering, bleeding from the nose and eyes. He flexed his mind to condense himself into a small golden dot, then unfolded it into a complex, continuously shifting geometric shape. The shape started to multiply and fill the space with exponentially increasing speed. Every one of them was thrumming the annoying phoenix song...

I tried to dodge, to find a path for retreat, but the shapes were everywhere. With a deafening crackling sound, an unknown power squeezed my little imaginary world. It felt like a unripe fruit being ripped from a branch. The strange shifting shapes reached over a hundred in number and pressed around my mind with the crushing force of dragon teeth.

I burned them, froze them, dissolved them in acid... But for every one I destroyed, many more were ready to replace it. They looked oddly familiar... I was recently analyzing British magical press, and one magazine, _the Quibbler_ , had a similar looking puzzle... Back then, I paid it no mind: who knows what the editor was smoking?

Now, I was frantically thinking and transforming myself every second. Becoming fire and sand did not help. I tried turning into Ariana.

"Are you really going to kill me again? This time deliberately?" Zero effect.

I turned into an Obscurus. The black smoke slowed the figures down a bit, but they were crushing even this vapory flesh. There wouldn't be anything left of me once they come together. I saw no chances to win this. There was only one option: running…But I was unable to break away from the grip. Unable to seep through the gaps between them. Unable to return to my own body. Unable to disturb any meaningful part of the pattern... I tried fighting, I tried running. But I couldn't. Couldn't.

But all of a sudden, Albus disappeared. Freed from the oppressive force, I immediately canceled the pure mind form and rushed back into the real world. The thought that it might be a trap came too late. I reappeared next to Crouch's house, wand gripped tightly in my hand.

Everything turned much simpler. Our reserves had finally climbed to the surface through the enemy interference, and the Order was hopelessly losing. Twenty giant-sized golems were trashing them all. As if that was not enough, a new wave of inferi, acromantula and ragtag ordinary golems flooded the rest. The final blow to the enemy's resistance was Nessie. She threw most of her body on land and was crushing everything with the ease of a train plowing through a traffic jam.

With blood still dripping from his face, Dumbledore was fighting off the Carrows, Bellatrix and six more Death Eaters. It was one thing to face Albus in a duel and quite another to throw a couple of spells at defenseless fog. After all, that's how you become the owner of the Elder Wand! And so, Albus was forced to return to the real world to avoid dying.

Inspired by the turn of events, I attacked him. But he apparently was not as defeated as he looked. One flick of the Elder Wand sent six Death Eaters flying backwards, another blasted away my three demo-versions. I again ended up facing him alone... After my simultaneous Fiendfyre and Twilight Flame did nothing, I tried an Expelliarmus. Why not, what if it worked? But it was all futile.

He conjured something I dubbed an "apex Patronus." A blinding sun illuminated the battlefield. All Dementors and Antipatronuses vanished. Ball-size clusters of energy destroyed the majority of objects not protected by dragon blood. Nessie's head lit up with unquenchable fire, and she retreated back into the water. The pond boiled with strange whirlpools.

Albus was radiating something not Dark yet very lethal. I did not want to gamble on it being a trick and completely focused on defending. I could not move away: the charmed fire that had surrounded me earlier was not letting me through, as if it were solid.

For the first time in the entire fight, Albus was pronouncing the spell verbally. I struggled to understand his words. It was a medley of dead languages from which I recognized three: ancient Sumerian, Greek and Maya. His speech rhymed and resembled a prayer. I only gleaned a few bits of meaning: "I am," "cease to be," and the name "Tom Marvolo Riddle."

When he finished, his wand shot out a transparent drop the size of a snitch. It crossed the distance between us in a flash. Some of my shields vanished, the rest did not react at all. The drop touched my body and disappeared. And nothing happened!

Dumbledore momentarily faltered from the fight.

It must have been some pimped up spell, maybe even one of his own creation. But it didn't work. I did not believe the old man made a mistake. It seemed he needed the target's name. But he guessed wrong. Voldemort might have worked too, but he did not use it... I should change my safe password...

Did I get busted? Or would Albus blame it on some unknown Dark ritual or horcruxes? What if he hit me right in a horcrux under the robe?

A gleeful smile crept on my face on its own accord... Will everything really end here and now?

The old man raised his wand straight up and shot a reddish gold ray at the ward.

The ward could not be broken from the inside. But we did not take into account the Elder Wand and did not know its capabilities... Considering that the ward had been pounded with rays from the Ministry's second most powerful source in England and the entire DMLE, it must have already started to decay on the outside. And Albus added large cracks from within...

Maybe we should have continued fighting. But I had more than enough for the day: magical exhaustion was fast approaching, and I felt a bit wobbly from blood loss. It was hard to tell just when the Ministry would break through, and I had no more reserve forces. And Albus... he could escape by phoenix at any moment.

I gave the order to retreat. The ward had a blood-based backdoor for our people, and everyone brought personal portkeys as backup. Far away, Rosier began the ritual... All Death Eaters turned transparent before vanishing. Nessie disappeared in the same manner- the other side had to sacrifice an entire dead body of a Welsh Green dragon to transport her. The Obscurus and I shimmered last.

And the rest? Golems and corpses were dime a dozen. And acromantulas... We picked only the most violent males, and very few survived the fight.

Albus was holding me under some spell that was stopping me from leaving. It was far too early to expose my phoenix, so I followed the backup escape plan and activated runes I drew on Ariana's human body. As far as transgression blocking charms were concerned, Ariana was now me.

And so, I disappeared along with the Death Eaters, leaving behind only my army of puppets and the Obscurus.

* * *

For a short while, the Order's thinned numbers held back the abandoned remains of Voldemort's army. Then the ward dome crumbled, and the Ministry forces flooded the battlefield: every Auror and Hitwizard available backed by golems fueled from the Ministry.

The Obscurus resisted the longest. It killed two more people even after it was left completely alone, but waves of spells soon tore it apart. After a brief but furious fight, the previously winning army was annihilated. The manor's grounds continued filling with more and more people: mediwizards were treating the survivors, Unspeakables were prodding everything with antenna-shaped artifacts...

And two figures -an old man with bloodied beard decorated with bells and a one-legged invalid with a spinning eye- approached Voldemort's last location.

On the ground where the Dark Lord once stood were three earrings. Albus began casting diagnostic charms.

"Alastor, these are very strong delimiters," Albus said to his friend.

The only response he got was a storm of cussing.


	34. Debriefings

I sat at the head of the table at the Lestranges' manor and listened to reports. We avoided any losses among the Inner Circle, but they looked like thugs after a turf squabble: bruises, cuts, overall raggedness. Nearly every one missed an attack or several. If it were not for dragon blood and defensive amulets, half of them wouldn't have returned. And neither would I.

Their words registered at the edge of my awareness. It was all old news. Giants, undead, and acromantulas were destroyed. I especially regretted losing the Obscurus- the beautiful picture of it crushing the Order like a meat grinder was still playing before my eyes. Ten Death Eaters died. The house elves were slathering Nessie's wounds with something, and it looked a barrel full wasn't enough. Even though we killed a large part of the Order and captured both Crouches, I did not feel victorious.

I kept replaying everything in my mind. The method to winning was clear: know yourself and your enemy. I should watch everyone's memories. Assess the enemy's arsenal and tactics. Look for way to counteract them. Determine the Order members' identities. They were obviously protected, but we should reach at least some of them.

I had to dissect Albus's every spell. First, to understand his style. He could alter it, but not immediately or completely. Second, to modify some of his spells for my own use. Light magic would surely not come easy (maybe try drinking unicorn milk?), but everything else was doable. A magnetism-based spell that pulled all the iron out of human blood! It was brilliant! If anyone could survive it, it was only Albus and Moody.

Third, knowing Dumbledore's squeamishness, it was safe to assume none of these spells harmed the soul. This would give me a safe start. I had enough brains to master at least some of his modified stunning or blasting spells from memories.

Albus himself concerned me most of all. He was an indescribably dangerous foe. But he tied too much to himself, so his removal was the key to victory. We planned this operation very well: an ambush, quality doping, overwhelming advantage in quality (Avada against Stupefy) and quantity (golems, giants, undead and Acromantulas against golems). The old man single-handedly saved them more than once. And hit me three times! What if he decided to switch to Killing Curses? And even if he didn't, I could not always walk around under multiple Dark rituals! Run away by phoenix? It would work once or twice. Then he would come up with something, some fancy ward... Like the one I had set in the inferi cave, a phoenix couldn't apparate through it... It was stationary and based on human sacrifice, but who knows what the old man can do... And that last attack, what if he tried it again? Modified it or used the name "Voldemort"? I'd develop a shield, but he'd come up with something new!

I would not succeed simply by increasing the number of Avadas and inferi. Or succeed but become indistinguishable from my previous self. I really didn't want to throw around Killing Curses while screaming "I'm invincible!"

On a more positive note, Dolohov's team found Andromeda Black and presumably her family. We had to pick up the daughter for research. As well as the rest of them. I wondered what made Andromeda different from Bellatrix. Did she have the same defect? But it was a task for after I recovered.

Most urgently, I had to run to the ritual hall and measure how much necroenergy I gained in the battle. Probably a lot... Then compile a table of spells and their individual effects on the soul... It would surely not be something as simple as a linear correlation, but I still had to try. It was also worth looking into the inverse and test the effects of Light magic. What if it cleared out this "necroenergy"? Cruciate someone, then go conjure candy for children. Committed a murder? Go practice healing! Not likely, but it made sense to check every other branch of magic... Maybe it would give me an insight into what makes them different and how to master Dark and Light simultaneously.

All of that demanded time... a lot of time. I hesitated to resort to it, but I would need to use a Time-Turner to fit in all the research and training. Hurrah for more Voldemorts!

By the way, it would also be prudent to approach the problem of "necroenergy" through someone not practicing Dark magic... Or at least someone without years of Dark Arts experience. The only candidate was Lily, so she thereby became my assistant in general and Light magic research. And Bella in Dark. I explicitly told her to kill and not torture during the battle, but she still cruciated everyone...

And thanks to the Time-Turner, I now could show off the Lord and Elena at the same time. The important thing was not to stumble into a time loop...

But my main problem was still Dumbledore. It was truly a testament to the gravity of the situation that I kept obsessing over a bearded old geezer while a gorgeous brunette was staring at me with devotion...

How, oh how to kill him? Poison? Severus had already leaked to him several plans of raids on muggleborns. He came to trust Severus, but I still saw no opportunity to poison him! And even if we succeeded, Dumbledore's accursed bird would shed a few tears and make him like new...

Fine, let's start small. Remove the phoenix, thus removing his ability to apparate anywhere he pleased and his universal medkit against everything. Trap it far away from Albus or find a way to quickly kill it for good... The bird must fly around somewhere, it couldn't always be cooped up in the Headmaster's office...

I also had to analyze the old man's behavior during the mental duel. Drop by a couple of muggle psychologists for a free consultation under Imperius. If he was bent on defending the weak, it made sense to provide him an opportunity to die heroically. Survived an ambush only to die in a trap... The question was, what to put in the said trap? I had two ideas: the Resurrection Stone or a horcrux. He wouldn't bite on a fake, but using the real objects was out of the question...

Assuming the old man found out about Riddle's horcruxes, would he tell anyone? Unlikely: many would jump on the promise of living forever. So, he would go after them himself. Go where? The Gaunt house, most obviously. Then the inferi cave. After that, I was at a loss... Then, I should improve the defenses at those two locations and set up a lure. Let Dumbledore leave to destroy Voldemort's horcrux and never come back. I had no intentions of fighting him again, no desire to die under his heroic onslaught like a fool. He can go take a stroll to a cursed shack or swim at a lake full of inferi. After I adjust the entrance system to force him to impale himself on spears, or better dive head first into a rock... Hopefully, two sets of cursed traps would be enough to destroy one old man. Or maybe the goblins would kill him once he breaks into Gringotts? Not likely...

Somewhere deep inside, my muggle part stirred. Maybe bury a nuclear bomb in the trap? Not even he would survive several megatons... But damn, what if he did and answered with the same? Transformed into something that could not be destroyed without magic? Then I would get busted without recourse: the Lord would never use anything muggle! Fine, a nuclear bomb would be the absolute last option for the last "horcrux," once I create a quality space expansion to prevent the muggles from noticing the explosion... And better do it far outside England. Only that was not anywhere near my specialty, meaning more studying with the Time-Turner...

At the moment, the more pressing concern was how he had overcome me during the mental battle. Just into what did he transform? It was most likely a coincidence, but I should still visit the Lovegoods. Only he might be waiting for me there, knowing I would take interest in his trick. Tom had no muggle education, but he excelled in arithmancy. What Dumbledore was demonstrating was no geometry, it was a psychotic dream of a drunk genius. All right, how much time has passed? Two hours since the beginning of the battle was more than enough, the Time-Turner worked up to four.

I had no more strength than an average wizard, so Edward and Rodolphus can come with: the former was commanding, the latter just went for a walk. All under polyjuice. If someone learned the Lord was afraid to come near the Lovegoods alone, it would end my reputation.

"The meeting is finished," I announced. "Edward, Rodolphus, come with me. Bella, prepare a cell for three prisoners."

If my behavior surprised anyone, they showed no sign of it. Only Macnair was trying to whimper something:

"My Lord, there's an urgent message... The specimen from lab 14/58 escaped while the security was relaxed..."

That lab... It was a simple experiment. Some rituals required the sacrifices to be driven insane before they are killed. Since torture harmed the soul, I thought up an alternative: throw immobilized prisoners into a cell with a Boggart. Only strong occluments could resist it, and muggles were completely defensless.

The Boggarts fed on fear and quickly multiplied. We usually destroyed or portkeyed them somewhere, but I decided to see what would happen if a Boggart was sterilized. Normal Boggarts would eat, grow and eventually breed by dividing in half like amoebas. The experimental Boggart continued to grow and condense until it reached the size of a three story house, then stopped - it must have reached the point of wasting as much energy as it was consuming.

Even I struggled to hold up occlumency under its pressure. We decided to wait and see what qualities it gains. It had been moved to a remote base and periodically fed. The security was obviously extensive- runic circles, guards and all that. But when most of my servants left for battle, the leftovers got careless.

"Let the Aurors deal with it. Inform me of their casualties later. Put everyone responsible for this into the penal squad. I am leaving now."

Before, the Lord tortured or killed for failures. I decided to improve the system: a failure now resulted in torture plus a mandatory opportunity to redeem yourself in a single difficult task, its danger directly proportional to severity of the failure. And Bella now Crucio'd on my behalf. Everyone was happy: the victims thought Bella's Cruciatus was weaker than mine, Bella was overjoyed with the Lord's trust. (Torture as a sign of trust... It was safe to assume she wouldn't grow any crazier.) And I didn't pick up any unnecessary "necroenergy."

I took the Time-Turner out of my safe and went back to Edward and Rodolphus.

"We are going to the Lovegoods," I said. "Take polyjuice first."

I felt their confusion, but there were no questions. Three turns- and the three of us were in the past.

* * *

 **Albus Dumbledore**

Using charmed tweezers and telekinesis, Albus was placing Voldemort's earrings in an isolating container.

"It's been a long time since I fought like this", he thought, looking over the still warm battlefield and darting people. It felt like he was hundred and fifty all over again.

He'd remember this day for the rest of his life. Personally, he's had worse, but not by much. Everyone had secrets, and life was no Triwizard Tournament. He had defeated Grindelwald, whose Elder Wand did not save him. Though now Tom was spreading rumors that Albus had been sleeping with Grindelwald and stole the Elder Wand from his pants... That's not how it happened, and Albus did not like talking about it for a different reason.

Albus was always great at transfiguration. When it was time to face Gellert, he came prepared: bathed in the blood of a dragon he personally killed, drank potions, and brought an army of very durable golems.

Of course, Gellert wiped them all out. But they did their job of exhausting him. Years of Albus's work lasted less than two minutes even with his magical support. And then the battle commenced. Going against the Elder Wand was suicide, but Albus did not study under the world's best alchemist for nothing. He brewed a number of potions and brought rare artifacts. And Flamel gave him some of his own creations. But even that proved not enough...

When it felt like Gellert was about to win, Albus transformed into a pure mind and attacked him mentally. It ended in a tie. But when they returned to the real world, they saw Gellert's Elder Wand on the ground a hundred yards away, at the spot where they initially disappeared. The rest was history.

So what did Abus have to be proud of? That his teacher gave him good potions? That he marched an army of puppets in front of him? That Gellert's wand betrayed its master? Or that Fawkes apparated Albus from under attacks and out of traps?

Albus expected trouble at Crouch's and prepared golems in advance. A great many of them. But the manor was too expertly cut off from all travel. He could only bring in the vanguard of the golem army, while the entire Order arrived without problems... And that heralded the beginning of a catastrophe.

Fighting Voldemort was nothing like he expected. It was as if Voldemort worsened in control but increased in energy volume. How could that be? An experimental ritual?

Albus was sure: Voldemort emptied himself more than once. But how? Flamel would never brew anything for Tom! Abus didn't believe Flamel could be robbed, but it wouldn't hurt to ask... Tom rediscovered the recipe? It was hard to imagine. Even Abus, knowing the recipe and having all the ingredients, could not brew it after Flamel showed him multiple times...

Albus didn't collapse after the mental battle only thanks to some of his experimental potions. After Tom left, he kept pushing himself to the limit to help the Aurors kill the Obscurus. Fighting off the fatigue, Albus drank a couple of ordinary energizing potions and got back to work.

He had to go to the hospital to help the wounded, notify the ICW of a member's death, examine the battlefield with the Unspeakables, check the safehouse where Crouch Sr. was kidnapped (how could there be no traces?!), speak with the Minister, examine Voldemort's golems and captured Acromantulas...

Albus had Fawkes take him home and picked up his Time-Turner. Of course, he had competent assistants. Another version of him was stopping them from dying at St. Mungo's that very moment.

This day has earned the honorary title of the third worst day in Albus's life, right after Ariana's death and his duel with Grindelwald. Half of the Order was dead. Podmore torn apart by the Obscurus, Amelina trampled by a giant... Inexperienced members were outright swept away. Few lucky ones, like Weasley, escaped with a brief hospital stay.

Albus had to once again bail Robert out of jail and interrogate him under Veritaserum and legilimency... The Aurors released him on the promise of Albus's personal supervision.

Unsurprisingly, the news that Voldemort himself came to defend Crouch's manor and its defenses fired on the Order spread like an out of control Fiendfyre. Crouch Sr. was immediately accused of aiding Voldemort. When he could not be found, both he and his family got blamed for every crime and sin in existence. Everyone looked at Albus with a silent accusation for letting Crouch get away.

None of them listened to Albus's ardent protests that "the Crouches are merely suspects," "They may have been under Imperius," "Crouch was kidnapped by the Death Eaters, who killed the Order guards."

The public pressure forced Milicent Bagnold to announce her resignation. The talented Ravenclaw made a good Minister. Yes, she had trouble lately, but who could handle the hand she's been dealt any better? A week ago, Albus would bet on Crouch. A day ago, on Scrimgeour. But when people were so convinced Voldemort supporters have infiltrated the DMLE that they were demanding a retrial for _everyone_ Crouch ever imprisoned, no one from law enforcement stood a chance to win the elections.

Albus returned to Hogwarts after eight hours, which for him lasted for one hundred and twenty. After making sure Hogwarts was still standing and sending Severus to Voldemort, he went to the Order's headquarters to speak to the few still on their feet. Little over a dozen of people. Most of the survivors were at St. Mungo's.

He made an inspirational speech about the importance of fighting evil, the large blow they had dealt to Voldemort, the importance of honoring their fallen heroes... But his soul felt empty. They've had failures before, but nothing like this! Before, he could look into his people's eyes and see absolute certainty: Albus will defeat Voldemort as soon as he gets a chance to duel him.

They dueled. Albus had done everything in his power, covered his people, hit Voldemort three times... But now he saw nothing but faint traces of their previous faith in him.

Some foreign journalists have already written that Albus hid behind the Order's backs as he was bleeding out, that they would all be dead without his Elder Wand. The Germans rarely had anything positive to say about him... No, of course Albus was all for freedom of speech! But that wasn't how it happened!

Moody argued that Albus should use his authority to force these journalists to undergo mental evaluations as soon as they step foot in England. And interrogate them under Veritaserum. Obviously, Albus refused.

Alastor went off on another one of his rants:

"Albus, this is the first time it's ever happened to me! I ran out of everything: potions, artifacts, runestones, explosives! And that horned serpent, I was not prepared for it! Me! Not prepared! I was not vigilant enough! I'm sure Voldemort has more monsters! Albus, I pulled out the full list from the DMLE's historical archives! We must include all of them in the Auror training program! And the Order's!" shouted Moody, pacing around on the new prosthetic leg Albus made him.

Poor Alastor... Albus warned him about the harm of Dark magic, but he replied "Just because you are paranoid, it doesn't mean you are not being watched." Alastor tried to only use Dark magic as a last resort, so he got away with a simple obsession: "Everyone wants to kill me. Don't trust anyone!" If people only knew how much truth was in the "Mad-Eye" moniker...

Dumbledore looked at the book on monsters that went extinct thousands of years ago -not just in Europe, in the entire world- and with a weary sigh asked Moody to focus on real problems.

Minerva suggested to sue the journalists for slander and demand a redaction. A much better idea.

Mundungus Fletcher disappeared. Albus was certain the man did not get injured during the battle. Now Albus would have to search for him, too.

Robert was the most irritating of them all:

"Honorable Chief Warlock, why haven't you used the Killing Curse on Voldemort? Why were you trying to stun him like he was a dragon? Why did you wound him with non-Dark spells, giving him an opportunity to heal himself? If you insist on calling him Voldemort, why did your last spell say Tom Riddle?"

Would this day end already... Albus wished he could blame Robert's mental state on that woman's Cruciatus, but no... Some others shared Robert's sentiment.

Albus was convinced Tom had horcruxes. Killing him was pointless. It made the most sense to capture him and find out the horcruxes' locations with legilimency. When he failed to capture Tom, he did try to kill him. Tom's shields proved just how powerful a Dark wizard he was. Albus, for obvious reasons, had problems with Dark Arts practice. He hardly trusted his skills in Dark magic to breach Tom's protections. The Killing Curse remained an option, but as Albus understood on the day of Ariana's death, Killing Curses tend to hit all the wrong people.

"Let's say I used the Killing Curse," Albus said. "Voldemort would have shielded from it with someone from the Order or one of his own people. Or pulled out some unfortunate soul from an expanded pocket. I don't believe we can defeat the Dark Lord with Dark magic. We must emphasize and make use of what makes us different. We fight for all that is good, we confront death with life..." and more similar, appropriate words.

On the inside, Albus's thoughts were in turmoil over the disembodiment spell he so painstakingly created. The calculations were unequivocal: use the name given at birth. Tom Marvolo Riddle, everything was correct...

He continued his sermon about remembering what they were fighting for, what made them different from the enemy. In the light of dozens of casualties, it sounded... not terribly convincing.

Having given out the necessary praises and admonishments, Albus ended the meeting. His fingers habitually grasped the Time-Turner.

Dumbledore-1 was meeting with the Board of Governors.

Dumbledore-2 was helping heal the wounded at St. Mungo's.

Dumbledore-3 had Fawkes take him to the ICW.

Dumbledore-4 went to the Ministry to file papers.

Dumbledore-5 was charming new golems.

Dumbledore-6 took a nap.

Dumbledore-7 was listening to the tirade of his old friend Newt Scamander: "How could let them kill an Obscurial! Why haven't you stopped the Aurors?! It was a child!" It wasn't as if Albus could say it was Voldemort's experimental undead made of his sister...

Dumbledore-8 was analyzing the blood of Voldemort's horned serpent. No, he did not want to curse it through blood, and it would not work on such a highly magical animal anyway... By indirect signs, he determined the snake came from North America. He'd have to file a complaint to the ICW. The Americans swore they shut down the breeding and keeping of these creatures! Further analysis showed the snake was a female and pregnant. Tom completely lost his mind...

Dumbledore-9 was searching through the captive Acromantulas' minds. And there was Hagrid in their memories. Understandable, a white zombie. Albus must warn everyone. He tried to determine the location of the spiders' new home by stars in their memories, but conjured clouds covered the sky. He would have to cross-reference the images of local flora and fauna...

Dumbledore-10 was watching everyone's memories of the fight in his pensive.

Dumbledore-11 was checking his spell for disembodying Tom and not finding any mistakes.

Dumbledore-12 was analyzing the ritual Tom showed him. Not a trick. Who could have guessed, he really measured it without human sacrifice. How uncharacteristic of Tom.

Dumbledore-13 was analyzing Tom's delimiter earrings. Why did he wear them? It was as stupid as trying to jump over a canyon in several consecutive jumps...

Dumbledore-14 was carefully reviewing Tom's spells and shields in the pensieve and struggled to understand what he was seeing. Especially these black snakes: it looked like the corrosive fog gained not only shape but something much greater... Advanced necromancy for such a mediocre spell? That would be like hammering nails with an omninocle! Albus saw only one option: however much he loathed it, he'd have to go visit Gellert in his cell. The formerly powerful Dark wizard was a shell of his old self. Only shards of magic and awareness remained, but his memory was still intact. Legilimency, then...

Dumbledore-15 was searching for Aberforth with an experimental ritual. Again nothing...

Dumbledore-16 was trying to locate Voldemort's concentration camp. No success... But it was not the end: the Death Eaters killed so much and so often that the place would soon rival Aztec pyramids in ambient magic. He'd find them, and they would pay for everything.

Several subjective days later, a single Dumbledore sat down in his office. Face scrunched from headache, he was alternating between petting Fawkes, rubbing his temples and chasing mounds of sweets with Pepperup. Something wasn't quite right, something about his meeting with Tom bothered him...

Everything looked as it always did, the same sick bastard... But the intuition kept itching...

Something very subtle changed. And it was not just the ritual Tom was under. His magic... His Dark magic was not strong enough. Or rather, it was very strong, but only in the energy volume. Those five black lightning from each finger... Why not use a single stronger one? It was the bare basics: if the enemy has powerful shields, you must concentrate the energy, hit with a fist rather than an open palm. Did Tom suddenly forget how to fight? But he focused his elemental attacks normally!

There had been a lot of Killing Curses and Crucios flying his way. Unfortunately, some passed his transfigured objects and kept going. The dead could not be questioned, but he easily gathered people's memories of being hit with Tom's Cruciatus. And for some reason that Cruciatus was very lackluster. Even some Death Eaters cruciated better...

And Tom himself... He had not laughed once during the entire battle! Not even when he peeled poor Elvin down to a skeleton...

Albus reviewed old memories of Voldemort, both his own and Moody's. He looked exactly the same, just as casually stepping over corpses... But something kept Albus on edge...

Voldemort did not argue "my name is not Tom," and it used to always annoy him... During the mental battle, he did not notice Albus's conjured images of the horrible life at the orphanage...

Tom never gave a damn about his followers. But today all of them were protected with dragon blood on par with their Lord. Tom took care of someone!

And he did not deny some things are worse than death... Well, it was obvious- the Dementor's kiss, for example. But why on earth did Tom suddenly see the light?

And their mental clash? He dug up Albus's past, pressured him with family... Kidnapped Aberforth in advance...

And in the end Tom used an Expelliarmus! No, the logic was sound: method A failed, try method B. But Tom had always scorned all magic except Dark...

And why did he not conjure an Antipatronus? It would have been very useful! To think of it, when did Tom last use one? Albus looked through newspaper clippings. Voldemort's Antipatronus was last seen over four months ago... But maybe there were no surviving witnesses? Antipatronus changed and he didn't want to show it? Why? And he had a different wand... Searching for a more powerful one, ideally the Elder Wand? By the way, if Expelliarmus worked, it could not have been made of bone- it was only a bone case.

Without doubt, Voldemort's words were not to be trusted. But he had not once mentioned blood purity! And how he was speaking of muggles: muggles used their chance for progress where the wizards failed. Tom never said anything positive about muggles, never acknowledged their accomplishments...

Albus's head felt like a boiling over cauldron. How to explain all of this? He would've entertained the idea of an impostor, but... Who would replace one amoral monster with another? How and why? How would that help anything? Besides, if someone looked like Voldemort, acted like Voldemort, then it was Voldemort. No need to create extra personas. The Dark Mark didn't change, and it was a reliable indicator tied directly to his soul.

If anything, Tom resembled himself in the past: still terrible, but not quite deranged. Could it be that he managed to clean up his soul? But how? Creating a horcrux damaged the soul irreparably, Albus was absolutely certain! And removal of Dark magic residue was tied to the soul itself! In his youth, Gellert had done extensive calculations and came to the same conclusion. Tom had no horcruxes? Albus's evidence was indirect but undeniable.

Did Tom really find a safe path in the Dark Arts? Even if it were true, it wouldn't change anything. Dumbledore was thinking and thinking... Herpo the Foul grew stronger after he created a horcrux. Was it possible that the changes in Tom stemmed from a new horcrux? Definitely. Having killed the Potters, he could have created another to mock the prophecy. Tom always loved symbolism... How many horcruxes did he have? Two? Ten?!

In any case, Albus's enemy was incredibly dangerous. He had to visit Flamel right away... Right after one more urgent task.

The Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Order of Merlin (first class), Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, founder of the Order of the Phoenix, owner of the Elder Wand and the Invisibility Cloak, two Hallows out of three, student of Nicholas Flamel was lamenting he no longer had the Mirror of Erised. He laid down the fresh flowers and silently stood over Ariana's empty grave.

"Forgive me, today I killed you again _..._ "


	35. Nineteen Shades of Voldemort

The Lovegoods' capture went smoothly. The second Dumbledore appeared at Crouch's manor, Edward, Rodolphs and I quietly dismantled the Lovegoods' rather average wards, set up anti-transgression charms and entered their home under concealment charms. Two Imperios, two shield penetrators and three stunners later, the family moved to a new permanent residence. Their disappearance would not alarm anyone: under Imperius, Xenophilius left a note explaining that they took an urgent trip to the continent to search for crumple-horned snorkaks.

Problems began to emerge shortly afterwards. First, their child Luna was younger than Harry Potter. We had to stick them all into one comfortable cell where they could care for the kid.

Second, the interrogations ground to a halt at the very start. Neither of them resisted the Imperius or Veritaserum, but it felt like interrogating mental patients: wrackspurts, nargles, snorkaks. It was wilder than witnessing Barty's drug-induced hallucinations.

I entered their memories and saw all these imaginary creatures first-hand. Wrackspurts were glowing objects shaped like crumpled paper that lived in people's heads. And a crumple-horned snorkak was an erumpent that in "Lovegood sight" looked nothing like it should. The Dark Lord came to believe in wrackspurts, could it be used as a psychological weapon? And what properties did these snorkaks have? The Lovegoods had yet to find one... The space around us also buzzed with some distorted abominations worthy of Salvador Dali's brush... The world through Lovegoods' eyes was an incredibly uncanny place.

Aside from the obvious hypotheses that they were insane and seeing the same hallucination or suffered from the same undiagnosable magical illness, I could only speculate that it was a unique type of magical sight. Or a magical sight defect, where the brain created these outlandish creatures to make sense of the visions. The Lestranges have never heard of anything remotely similar.

The Lovegoods' child was the most "normal" of them all, despite being a little over a year old and still wetting herself. She switched between normal sight, magical sight and "Lovegood sight" at will.

Next came Xenophilius Lovegood: he could use ordinary human sight and "Lovegood sight." In his pockets we found a symbol of the Hallows and notes detailing their search efforts. I should visit a couple of graves in Godric's Hollow. Maybe the Resurrection Stone would help me chat up Ignotus? The grave dated 1291 was too old for standard methods, but I'll think of something. The best idea so far was tying the Resurrection Stone with blood during the summer solstice. In the meantime, my servants can steal his body. How fortunate that wizards didn't favor cremation!

Finally, Pandora Lovegood was truly strange. Even with the Imperius, the Lestranges and I failed to force her to switch from "Lovegood sight." And while her husband drew on his abilities to create original puzzles for his magazine, she used them to craft spells.

A while ago, when I was reviewing the literature Tom wrote off as useless (and in this case I fully agreed), I kept wondering who were all these idiots creating spells for folding a dragon's tongue or conjuring tiny pink rollers on human nose hair. Now I found the answer. But a more pertinent question was, could this ability be weaponized? How safe was it? Should I try developing it in myself or always keep Imperio'd Pandora with me as a live detector?

One thing for sure, Pandora was incredibly lucky. She tested most of her inventions on herself, including the spells for partial self-transfiguration. A wizard could become an animagus and turn into one nonmagical animal, though Tom never saw the point of it. But attempts to turn into different animals, including imaginary ones? She should have died ten times over!

In a long and grueling legilimency session, I eventually reached the memories of the Lovegoods' youth, when they were relatively sane. Xenophilius' parents, the editors of _The Morning Astral_ magazine, taught them how to reach the "astral plane." What I had was three wizards who entered this plane to varying extent. Their memories gave me a direction to work in.

With the help of the Imperius and several mental magic techniques, I tried forcing prisoners to restructure their magical sight to be more "Lovegood-like." It resulted in monstrous constructs of energy channels around the eyes and brain that resembled a spiderweb with intricate knots of multicolored "threads" at every intersection. I expected to be done in a week, but this was shaping up to be at least a month worth of experiments... And I had no idea how much energy this sight took to activate and use. What if it burned out the eyes?

It was foolish of me to hope for a simple, universal mental battle spell. Yet again, a ton of work to be done...

Time to pick up the Time-Turner. Tom used one a couple of times and knew the safety protocols. I also questioned Rookwood: training in the past was completely safe as long as one did not alter any key events.

Having used the Time-Turner, I-2 went to interrogate Crouch Sr. He resisted but not well enough. Of course, he was physically unable to reveal some information, and a large part of it, such as DMLE passwords and shift schedules, would quickly become outdated. But he did tell me the names of his most promising employees and the names of everyone whose loyalty he doubted.

In addition to the Ministry's secrets, he was spilling his own. Just to think, he was using an illegal Time-Turner to observe crimes! So brilliantly simple. Maybe I should try it? No, too dangerous: it was a miracle Crouch didn't stumble into a time loop.

I have been particularly struck by two of his memories. Crouch decided to investigate Albus because he saw me leave Amelia Bones' murder scene by phoenix! And he left the memory with a confidant, meaning it was safe! We could now frame Albus's search as retaliation.

The second memory did not encourage: a nuclear explosion the day I fought the Aurors in Diagon. My alternative past self must have resorted to desperate measures and died... Barty Jr's reaction proved it. But Albus survived! How?! Escaped by phoenix?

I did not take the news of my demise well but wisely decided that killing everyone in sight was not as good of an idea as it first seemed. I had to be more careful and not think myself invincible.

This interrogation was going to take a while- Crouch Sr. was a treasure trove of information. And I could always use enemy blood..

After another two turns, I-3 began drawing runes with my blood on Diana Crouch's unconsciois body in preparation for the ritual. I resented being distracted from more important work, but she would not last much longer. I'll think of what to do with her later... Let her continue sleeping or find her a Prince Charming.

I-4 was reviewing everyone's memories of the fight in the pensieve in search of interesting spells. Only Albus showed anything new. I decided to puzzle out the modified stunning and blasting charms first. The rest of his arsenal promised to be much more problematic...

I-5 tested myself for the amount of "necroenergy" accumulated during the battle. It was a lot. An awful lot. More than the total I gained in the entire time since October 31st... Shooting Avadas and Crucios like a machine gun may not have been the brightest idea, but there was no other choice. I still did not know the critical amount. The good news was that my clearance speed hasn't changed. What determined it? Maybe Dumbledore binged on candy for a reason? Experiments on prisoners under Imperius showed cleansing potions, spells and specialized diets had no effect. They even tried prayers to every known deity, from Odin and Yahweh to Death itself- all for naught...

Salazar Slytherin was a legendary Dark wizard, yet he didn't go off the rails until the very end of his life. Forget Salazar: Tom was more or less sane after four horcruxes and years of Dark Magic abuse! The problem only became noticeable within the last few years. I was in no immediate danger.

The latest unexpected breakthroughs were further reassuring. A transfigured animal killing someone caused no negative effects to its creator! And neither did leaving someone to die from asphyxiation in a sealed room! Was that the reason Grindelwald toyed around with gas chambers? It seemed I would need to become a specialist in indirect murders. Oh my, what a tragic accident: the rabid hippogriff I happened to bring along tore someone apart...

Tom was a prodigious practitioner of Dark Magic. If anyone else tried to create multiple horcruxes, they would certainly not make it past two or three. What I really lacked was theory. There were two main hopes: accessing the closed off section of the Blacks' library and busting Grindelwald out of prison. He should be no match for me after forty years of Nurmengard. Maybe I could convince him help to me, to take revenge on Albus with my hands?

In the meantime, a prisoner under Bella's Imperius can test another method...

I-6 was reading newspapers. The slaughter at Crouch's manor dominated the headlines, the truth few and far between. The interesting tidbits included the Unspeakables closing off the area. In hindsight, it was expected: not even I used magic with perfect efficiency, some energy always spilled into the surroundings. Considering what transpired near Crouch's house, it would have been better off with an actual curse.

The Ministry scheduled new hearings for everyone Crouch Sr. sent to Azkaban. Nearly all were guilty but imprisoned without evidence. Albus would either release them into my service or illegally leave them in prison... After all, involuntary legilimency or Veritaserum required a probable cause... We should set up a charity: everyone sentenced to Azkaban is entitled to legal representation!

I-7 was conducting a very interesting experiment. Having taken Veritaserum, I answered questions voiced by a recording of my voice. Of course, everything took place in my home under Fidelius and multiple additional confidentiality charms.

Some results were unexpected. I was saying the whole truth and nothing but the truth, but the answers strangely conflated my present and past lives... For example, I didn't kill the Prewetts and McKinnons... And I knew just how to use it.

I-8 was staging a play. The wizards' main weakness lay in their reliance on magic. They would check my memories magically, and it cost me nothing to deceive them.

I have seen more than enough of Lily's memories to reconstruct the interior of the Potters' house. The hardest part imitating the view from the windows- it took a quality dynamic illusion. A prisoner under Imperius and facial illusions took on the role of James Potter... And then, action:

The horrible Voldemort enters the house.

"Lily, take Harry and run!"

"Avada Kedavra!"

Faux-James demonstrates incredible battle reflexes and dodges the killing curse but ends up on the floor. He would never get up again. With nonverbal legilimency, I enter his mind and find multiple compulsions. He dies the moment I break them. I laugh and turn to walk upstairs...

Stop. That should do it. I had to begin "whitewashing" myself. If this test version of evidence convinces Lily, then it was ready for mass distribution.

* * *

 **Lily Potter, unknowingly measuring necroenergy with Voldemort-9**

Lily Potter's world was falling apart. Everything used to be so clear and simple: bad Death Eaters and good Order, good Albus and the embodiment of evil You-Know-Who. Slavery to the Dark Lord changed nothing, only made her pray harder that someone would kill him.

The first crack in her black-and-white worldview came with the removal of compulsions and the subsequent events at Godrick's Hollow. She tried to convince herself it was all an elaborate performance. The Lord only laughed and praised her reality-denial skills.

The second crack spread from watching Aberforth's memories. She should have believed Bathilda. Albus Dumbledore and Gellert Grindelwald were planning to conquer the world together! Dumbledore kept his sister prisoner in their own home and would have abandoned his family if Aberforth hadn't stopped him from leaving with Grindelwald! When Dumbledore got in a fight with Grindelwald, he readily used Dark Magic, and one of his Avadas killed Ariana! And he not only avoided punishment but was never even prosecuted...

Lily thoroughly checked the memories for tampering. Sadly, they were completely authentic. Next to that, the revelations about Dumbledore "the lover of equality" owning the Elder Wand and sparing Grindelwald's life didn't seem that significant. The Lord said Dumbledore took pity on his lover...

But that was not what finally and irrevocably blew her mind. When the Dark Lord was checking her latest batch of potions, he paralyzed Lily in her chair. He sat across from her, took the Veritaserum she brewed and began answering questions read by the house elf.

"Are you Lord Voldemort?" the elf asked.

"Yes."

"Did you kill Alice and Frank Longbottom?"

"Yes."

"Does killing bring you pleasure?"

"No."

"Do you hate muggles or muggleborns?"

"No."

"Did you kill James Potter?"

"No."

As the Dark Lord explained, James was a highly trained Auror. He dodged the Avada but fell to wandless legilimency. The Lord noticed compulsions similar to the ones he later found in Lily and immediately broke them all. James died from built-in compulsion safeguards... The Lord only laughed at Dumbledore's hypocrisy and moved on.

Lily didn't want to believe it, but it was getting harder by the day. She feared what it meant for her. The Lord said that once they win she will be free to stay a Death Eater on the same conditions or take Harry and her earnings (the Lord began paying her for brewing potions!) and go wherever she pleases.

Lily was extremely disappointed with her occlumency progress. Today, the Lord noticed her doubting his chances of winning. To prove her wrong, he showed her one of his memories: a battle with Dumbledore.

It was...horrible... His duel with Rosier did not come close to this! The Dark Lord was invincible, stunners did not affect him, his wounds closed the moment they appeared. Dumbledore could do nothing, the Order survived only thanks to Ministry reinforcements. And what was that black smoke? Material objects passed right through it...

Lily used to think wizards were no match for muggle armed forces. What could they pit against a supersonic jet shelling them with rockets from six miles in the air? Now she was far from sure...

At the last meeting, she again made a speech the Lord dictated in her mind. They were discussing controlling muggles and muggleborns after the war. Rosier presented a "brilliant" plan: raising ritual victims under Imperius or with permanently damaged brains at specially designed "livestock" farms... He was backed by Mulciber and the Carrows (Lily finally memorized everyone's names). And it was not a simple 'let's do this thing' kind of pitch. He scrupulously thought out every little detail: number and locations of the camps, delivery schedules, resource estimates, population sizes, required staff... which would include dementors...

Lily repeated the Lord's words, which essentially boiled down to simple "let's say we kill them all or turn them into cattle. Then who is going to do all the work?" Suddenly, she received the support of Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Crouch Jr. (his father was wanted on charges of Dark Magic use!). Then Dolohov argued that concentration camps could not be operated in complete secrecy, and waging a full-scale war required an army the wizards haven't had in centuries. In best case scenario, they would recruit a division the level of Hogwarts seventh years, only a battalion of them pureblood. The Lord endorsed Dolohov, the Lestranges backed him. The radicals were left in the minority. And they all blamed Lily! It was very unsettling to see thirst for retribution in the four Dark wizards' eyes. Her status of the Lord's student helped, but she wanted to be able to defend herself. What difference would it make if her death is avenged?

When she was a little girl, Lily could slow her fall from a swing and move flower petals. She tried to remember how she did it, but wandless magic eluded her... Well, at least she was making great progress in her defense studies. There were no Ridiculuses or any other specialized charms: as Snape said, everything burns. Her arsenal broadened by half a dozen fire-based spells. Anything that refused to burn got chopped into pieces by her water whip or banished if there was no flesh to be destroyed.

Snape... Disgusting traitor. She hated him more than the Lord! She knew she could only defeat Snape if he stood in place and limited himself to Protego and Stupefy. It was infuriating!

But she had an ace up her sleeve: her new wand. It was difficult to use for anything non-combat, let alone healing. Even simple Vingardium Leviosa has become exponentially harder. Her new wand was not an instrument, it was a weapon. It longed for battle and Dark spells, correcting Lily's small mistakes on its own. Holding this wand felt like holding a cobra: a venomous, lethal thing capable only of destruction. But it was _her_ cobra. Every time Lily felt hatred or malice during her sparring with Snape, the wand warmed to the touch and amplified her spells. At times, she sensed something powerful trying to push its way out of the wand, begging her to release it.

Lily was not stupid. She understood that everything that has happened since October 31st was a setup. She didn't know how or why, but Voldemort was behind it all.

Snape she could understand. That filthy bastard, she itched to put him under the Cruciatus every time she remembered that memory of him asking to "leave her" for him. But what did the Dark Lord want with her? Did he really only want another loyal bootlicker? She saw his fight with Albus, she was nothing against such power. What choice did she have? Only crying herself to sleep every night and hoping that next time someone is after Harry, she can defend him instead of begging.

"Elena, quit daydreaming and focus on your task," the Dark Lord said.

Today, the Lord ordered her to assist him in research. She wanted to protest and was already thinking of the punishment she would face for it, but it turned out that "research" meant standing in a runic circle and throwing school spells at the wall. What would be the point of refusing? The only disconcerting bit was seeing the Lord slaughter sheep in another circle and occasionally cut himself...

He explained that sacrifice acted as an external charge, where the volume and malleability of energy depended on the material and the wizard performing the ritual. In other words, killing people left and right was not necessary- animals or one's own blood sufficed. After all, she already ate meat, wrote on parchment and owned a leather purse...

She knew it really was a wall and sheep- the Lord allowed her to check. It was odd to see the Dark Lord acting so considerate. And he claimed the goal of this research was simplifying the permanent enhancement ritual he performed on her, making it accessible to his faithful...

Time to get back to work. Next up on the list... partial transfiguration into a sea urchin? All right...

* * *

I-10 was rifling through papers and reading legends. No one knew where Salazar lived, and "swamplands to the East" was too vague.

I found one promising lead: one of his descendants, Isolt Sayre, ran away to America with a muggleborn and later founded Ilvermorny. She left behind a still living witness - the local horned serpent. Time for me to visit Ilvermorny through the Board's foreign exchange program. As for convincing the snake to cooperate... So far, my best idea was to offer it a mate. It worked on Snape, right?

Ilvermorny also had one extremely valuable item on exhibit: Isolt Sayre's wand, crafted by Slytherin himself from snakewood and basilisk crown horn. No, I did not need the wand itself. Ollivander was a true master of his craft, and Slytherin's wand could not outperform its owner. I wanted it for another reason: Priori Incantatem. I would try pulling out the last or, ideally, all of the spells Slytherin cast with it.

By the way, wizards were occasionally buried with their wands... It would be a good idea to task house elves or young recruits with digging up graves and searching for new spells in the owners' wands. I had a list of casualties in the war with Grindelwald around here somewhere...

Slytherin was clearly a genius: he protected his wand with a Parseltongue password. The possibility of someone using my wand worried me, so I wanted to learn how he did it. Though Slytherin's wand no longer worked and only had a historical value, it was Ollivander's problem.

And while my servants prepare the request, I better look into other legends. The Hallows truly existed, maybe there was something else worth pursuing?

* * *

 **Bellatrix Lestrange, unknowingly measuring necroenergy with Voldemort-11**

Bellatrix Lestrange felt conflicted. On one hand, she was ecstatic to have become closer to her Lord. He used to Crucio everyone personally but now entrusted it to her! More than that, he gave her the pureblood Longbottom child to raise into a worthy wizard. In response to her question about the prophecy, the Dark Lord only laughed and told her not to mistreat the boy. The prophecy was pure nonsense: what was a little boy, however pureblood, next to the Dark Lord who intimidated an entire country? He said that if Neville grew up and wanted to kill him, he would take measures. Most likely tell Bellatrix to spank out the stupidity... And Bellatrix got attached to the boy. His round cheeks were so adorable! Just like a giant hamster's! She's been overfeeding him a little, but that was hardly important.

The Lord had gone through another metamorphosis that made him... more handsome. Just like in his younger years. Of course, Master was always flawless, but this was even better!

But in other ways, things have gotten worse. Bellatrix struggled to understand the reasons behind her Lord's recent actions. The changes in him did not stop with appearance. He was searching for a new, better wand. Under the cover of Rabastan, he began studying every imaginable type of magic and searching for the Slytherin ancestral source. He explained that it was no longer enough for him to be the Dark Lord; he wanted to become the Lord of Magic. Bellatrix dearly wished she knew what that meant. No books mentioned it...

Her body was casting the familiar spells almost automatically, and the Lord was taking some measurements. Research and runes were not her forte, so she didn't ask why she was using such powerful curses on restrained prisoners. If the Dark Lord said so, then it must be done. She would think about it later.

Bellatrix received a good pureblood education, and something bothered her. Finding a family source was only half the work, he would then need to connect to it. Salazar Slytherin could not have been an idiot and obviously left a magical will. In noble families, the standard requirements included shared blood and political views, being magically strong, and having at least one pureblood or halfblood child.

And recently, she had an epiphany.

The Dark Lord brought a number of pureblood women to the manor. Diana Crouch. He personally began treating her illness even though Rosier or Edward would have managed on their own. Pandora Lovegood. She was a few kinds of sick in the head, but talking to her wasn't necessary. They were preparing to capture Andromeda. Even though the target was the metamorphmagus girl, the Dark Lord handpicked only those who leaned towards less lethal magic to participate in the operation.

Bellatrix used to have no doubts: she was her Master's favorite. But not now. The new girl. Elena. This very moment, the Dark Lord was conducting a similar experiment with Elena under a Time-Turner. And while Bellatrix was getting winded after two hours of intense Dark Magic, Elena walked out like she was throwing around Expelliarmuses.

The Dark Lord was spending an awful lot of time with that girl. And after watching Rosier carried out of the rink, Bellatrix had to admit: the girl was good.

Her soul stirred with anger. Sensing it, her wand ceased breaking the muggle's bones one by one and instantly crushed the whole body. It felt as though she squeezed a wine glass too hard, to the point of grinding it into sand...

"Bella, less energy, please. I want to look at the signal from minimal Dark Magic damage," the Lord said.

"Yes, Master," she answered. She wanted to bluntly tell him "Master, I'm better than her!" but bit her tongue and reinforced her occlumency block. Although the Dark Lord was an incredibly powerful legiliment, he would not find anything without either diving too deep or knowing precisely where to look. In truth, Bellatrix had problems with... fertility. But she was a Black! There was no problem that could not be solved with a good sacrifice. If it failed, then there were not enough victims. Or the material was bad. Replace muggles with wizards, sheep with unicorns. Or, as a last resort, sacrifice yourself...

* * *

I-12 was speaking to Snape who came to spy as Dumbledore ordered. What disinformation would assuage the old man's suspicions and not cost me anything valuable? I settled on leaking Rosier's concentration camp plans. They would never come to fruition anyway.

Adding concentration camps was an idiotic idea. Why deprive myself of future recruits and sabotage my own feeding grounds? Besides, they too had teeth... And when I seize power but none of Albus's warnings come to pass -no mudblood registries, no taking away their wands- any remaining faith in the old man will be obliterated.

I-13 was standing in Ollivander's room, watching him work and scanning his thoughts. That's right, a room. Fairly large and furnished, only locked with a strong door and lacking windows. The old wandmaker had earned better accommodations. We will eventually free him and pay for all the work he's done. After winning, of course.

I got to witness an amazing sight: Ollivander at a loss. He was numbly shuffling around his instruments and staring at the ingredients. No, he was not under Imperius or Confundus. I gave him a special ingredient: feathers of the phoenix named Nagini. And now Ollivander was fitfully trying to understand what was wrong with them. I wanted to see what would happen if they were used in a wand.

I-14 was speaking to Lucius in the guise of Elena. I really wanted to hit him with the Cruciatus: an hour and a half of the two allotted by the Time-Turner already passed, and he had yet to get to the point.

"I was struck with awe at your performance against the Aurors at Diagon!" Malfoy sang like a bird, "I wanted to meet you in person for so long! I thought you were actually much older and not as beautiful. A kind of wise, worldly woman with many secrets! If your face were not covered with a mask during raids, all enemies would be defeated before the fight!"

It took me seventy minutes to wandlessly and unnoticeably weasel into his mind past all the amulets. He wanted Elena to help him break his one-child curse and thought that a generous helping of flattery would land him a better deal.

Was there anything in it for me? Riddle's memories said no. Especially since I was no specialist in curse breaking. But I did plan on increasing the wizarding population. What other alternatives were there, a sperm bank fraud?

But in all seriousness – how did this infertility curse work? Maybe I could develop something just as persistent to curse Albus?

Finally, Lucius made his offer:

"... if you want to see whether you are strong enough to remove the Malfoy family curse, know that many have already tried. They all failed. Though if you succeeded, the glory of your power would be unprecedented," Malfoy said as if in passing.

Funny. Was that his attempt to convince me to work for free?

I took a piece of parchment and began writing down the price. I had a fairly good estimate of Malfoy's worth and didn't demand too much. His cheery mood was evaporating with every zero he watched me write, but he showed no outward signs of it.

"On top of this, I will need a history of all your attempts to break the curse, full access to your family library and a Time-Turner," I said.

" _Bitch_ ," I clearly heard in his mind. He agreed to pay the full amount after a brief, almost half-hearted attempt at haggling, agreed to describe their work on the curse in exchange for secrecy vows, and refused the rest.

I very transparently hinted that he can take his conditions and go bargain with someone else. If it must be me, I wanted half of the money upfront, and the only vows in play would be him vowing not to tell anyone or mention this deal to me without my permission.

Lucius's thought were a jumbled mess. He was certain I was trying to swindle him. I couldn't promise him success, but I was honestly going to try my best.

"And how do you plan on approaching the curse?" he asked.

"What do you know about homunculi and embryos, Lucius?" I caught myself just in time not to add 'my slippery friend.'

"The hopes that the destructive energy would spread on multiple bastards did not bear any fruit. The curse allows a single child, period. For another child to be born, the first must die. Homunculi... You want to grow artificial humans and deplete the curse by ending their lives? We tried that already, it didn't work."

"No. A voluntary sacrifice of shared blood would work best here. Have you tried weakening the curse with ritual suicides?"

"Over the centuries, there were only two such volunteers," Malfoy replied. "And they did it already on their deathbeds."

"I am going to try to quickly grow a large number of homunculi and have them end their lives at the right moment. You will act as a link. I will need a lot of your blood. Not all of it, you will survive. For that brief moment, the curse should temporarily weaken enough for us to break it with standard methods."

For a fraction of a second, Malfoy's thoughts filled with confusion and... disgust? Apparently, there was some Dark Magic he couldn't stomach. Or perhaps he feared the person who would kill thousands of almost-people based on a vague hope for success. I felt his distinct desire to stay far away from Elena.

"You will receive the full payment upon producing results, not before. I will procure you a Time-Turner. You may read some of our books in my presence. If there are any disputes, the Dark Lord will be our judge."

"I agree. The material for homunculi and embryos is on you. Leave it with the Lestranges, I will pick it up later."

I had to run, only two minutes left...

I-15 was sorting out my studies, thinking over the everything I learned through Rabastan and best ways to use it.

We needed a new care for magical creatures tutor. Only this time conduct the classes beyond the view of Nessie, lest this one scamper away as quickly as the last.

I had questions about the recent battle our Light Magic teacher could not answer. We had to find another, but who? And then there was the spell Albus used against me at the very end: name-based disembodiment. Was it possible to disembody anyone knowing their name? Or only with the Elder Wand?

We were soon going to receive a specialist in some rare African branch of magic. He graduated from Uagadou and was apparently on the run as an international fugitive for ritual murders. Hopefully, he would be competent and willing to become a Death Eater.

I was once again trying my hand at Light Magic. The arrow lost its structure and fell apart in a firework of sparks every time. I was perfectly repeating after the teacher, even after Rabastan! Overcharging it didn't work, undercharging didn't work, the exact same amount of energy they used didn't work. Nothing worked! Why? What was I missing?

I-16 was working on Horntail eggs. Or rather, preparing to work. Creating a chimera was no easy task, especially if it must survive without human care and successfully reproduce. But I wanted to create something aggressive, sterile, short-lived and powerful. There won't be much left of the original dragon. When Albus reaches the inferi cave, he will find a surprise... And not just one...

I-17 was speaking to an invited goblin craftsman.

"I would like to order copies of Hufflepuff's Cup, Slytherin's Locket, Ravenclaw's Diadem, Gryffindor's Sword and an antique ring," I put my offer on the table. "They must be indistinguishable from the originals."

I needed the Gryffindor sword to complete my image of an eccentric collector. The rest were going to become counterfeit horcruxes for Albus.

"I don't deal in fakes, Sir," the goblin replied.

"I have no intention of taking them to an auction. They do not need to have the originals' magical properties, only fool any wizard into thinking the craftsmanship is authentic. I will pay in full and agree to follow the goblin property law in regard to these objects. They will be returned to the rightful owner in a couple of years."

"An unexpected decision for a wizard."

What difference did it make if Albus was going to break them anyway? The goblins can go demand restitution from him! Still, I needed to thoroughly read the terms together with the Lestranges. I would never sign a goblin contract alone.

I-18 was brewing a poison to kill Dumbledore. The only problem was finding a way to check whether phoenix tears counteracted it... Probably not.

In between stirring, adding ingredients and pouring in specific types of energy, I was also brewing a much simpler potion. Nessie and Nagini donated some ingredients... I wish I could delegate it to someone else, but Nagini had to remain a secret, and Rodolphus was no potioneer.

I-19 approached the Mirror of Erised and bared my mind. Snape's method was... unique. But I was not Lily Potter. I did not need anyone to hold my hand, an example or an explanation more than sufficed. So far, my successes have been modest: I learned to change small details. It didn't matter. I would soon be able to plant disinformation no worse than Snape.

A day with the Time-Turner wore me out: nineteen copies two to three hours each added up to over two days of biological time. Having taken more pepperup, I started on the most important task: preparing my ex-horcruxes for testing. If all goes well, I will receive some much needed answers.

The ring remained a mystery. Where was my army of inferi? Obedient Founders sharing all their secrets?

The diary flawlessly calculated simple spell formulas. I was using its help to modify the Dark Mark into a slave brand. No, not for my servants. I had no need of brainwashed humans incapable of creativity when it could be achieved with corpses just as easily. But I was not going to simply let Aberforth go. This way, he would make his brother's life a little more difficult. Who could have thought: Aberfoth Dumbledore, a Death Eater!

The water in Hufflepuff Cup turned into some strange, undiagnosable potion. I'll test it on prisoners later, doubtful it would heal them.

The horcruxes got covered in identification runes and went back to the safe to await the ritual. I was apprehensive about tampering with them: what if several Voldemorts came back to life? But I worked very carefully and have not noticed any foreign influences on myself. I would know everything soon...

Suddenly, someone knocked on the door to the Lestranges' basement where I was working. After putting away my treasures and cleaning up the traces, I opened the door to Rabastan.

"My Lord, Snape is waiting on you. He said it is urgent."

Strange. I just spoke to him, it may very well be something urgent.

"Take me to him," I said.

Snape was waiting in the study. Rabastan bowed and left. I honestly did not care for protocols, but there was no benefit in playing democracy. Getting this far without anyone exposing me was miracle enough in itself.

"My Lord, it's a success! I captured a member of the Order!" Snape reported with uncharacteristic enthusiasm.

"How did you accomplish that? And where are they?"

"Mundungus Fletcher deserted the Order. Dumbledore told everyone to keep their eyes open for him. As the only halfblood in the Inner Circle, I occasionally do dirty work: deal with petty criminals. As the only Death Eater in the Order, I am ostracized and occasionally do dirty work: once again deal with petty criminals. I ran into Fletcher in a third-rate pub. I was under polyjuice at the time. A hit in the back in an empty alley- and he became my prisoner. Because I don't have the authorization to bring anyone here, I turned him in for standard prisoner processing."

"Rodolphus will go with you and bring him here. Your loyalty will be rewarded," I said. I would never go anywhere at Snape's invitation without knowing his thoughts. What if it was a trap?

They returned three minutes later, and I dismissed Snape. How to reward him? Add a new floor to his house? Easily. Except, Albus would notice. Money? A good idea. Only he could not spend it without arousing suspicion...

Soon I was standing over the unconscious prisoner chained to a table. All his charms had been dispelled and his belongings confiscated. He looked the part of a petty thief with below average magical talent. Dirty, reeking of alcohol and cheap tobacco. Well, let's see...

"Legilimens," I said.

No surprises here: a targeted occlumency block by Albus. Breaking it would be difficult and take mindbogglingly long. I only pulled out useless nonsense along the lines of his name and what he ate for breakfast. Albus surely provided for Veritaserum as well... Let's try voluntary cooperation first.

"Ennervate," I pronounced out loud. I was not yet fully back to normal and did not want to prolong this any more than necessary. Little crumbs added up.

The man's eyes snapped open.

"Where am I? Who's here? I know Hugh Noss himself! A good part of Knockturn reports to him! And I'm one of Dumbledore's men! Let me go, or you'll regret it!"

Was he an idiot or a hero? It was probably because the cell was pitch black and he, unlike me, had no night vision charm.

All right, turn up the drama and madness. We can always try the Cruciatus later. I laughed with Voldemort's insane cackle and turned on the lights. The prisoner squinted.

"Lord Voldemort welcomes you. How long will you last under the Cruciatus before losing your mind?"

"Aaah... No! I'll tell you everything, just don't kill me! And no Cruciatus!"

Sometimes my reputation helped- I didn't even get to tell him about dementors and their kiss... He was unlikely to share anything useful, for example the location of the Order's headquarters, but I would learn at least something even if it kills him.

"I am eager to hear your story. It must be truthful and very detailed, or I will call in Greyback."

I got bombarded by a torrent of words. They contained very little worthwhile information, but Fletcher did not lie and tried his best. How fortunate that not everyone was like Slughorn...

* * *

 **Augustus Rookwood**

Today, Rookwood received a special assignment from the Dark Lord. After the end of his shift at the Department of Mysteries, he put on a heap of artifacts and went to work on his task.

The Dark Lord ordered him to search for ancient magical artifacts and manuscripts. Many wizards searched for antiques, the Unspeakables had an entire division dedicated to just that. Finding something valuable was a long shot, especially with the efforts of a single person who was frankly no archaeologist.

But the Dark Lord's wisdom knew no bounds. There was no need to dig, only look around large muggle museums, especially their undeciphered manuscripts and unidentified objects. After all, muggles numbered in the billions! Magical items were often charmed to be protected from magical searches, so he would surely find something. Then move on to private collections... And the muggles would be none the wiser with permanently transfigured copies. Or he could simply buy some at an auction!

* * *

 **Frederick Hollingswood**

Frederick Hollingswood was a humble book merchant. Lately, he's been having problems: negative profit margins! No one was buying his most recent large volume order of books: _The Invisible Book of Invisibilty, The Singing Book of Songs, The Laughing Book of Laughter_ and several more. He was about to haul the entire series to the farthest storage corner when he received an owl with an offer to buy them all.

Now, he was speaking to the client. The middle-aged man paid the full price in gold and was moving the books into a space-expanded bag.

"It's been a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Smith," he said with relief.

"Likewise, Mr. Hollingswood," the client cordially answered.

Mr. Hollingswood never noticed Smith covertly pulling out the the address of the books' author and publisher from his mind. Soon, the Dark Lord will have a new diary awaiting a meeting with Albus Dumbledore.


	36. The Ritual for Diana Crouch

_Chapter warning for torture._

* * *

No one had likely ever attempted to approach Malfoy's curse the way I did. From my muggle life, I vaguely remembered the existence of in vitro fertilization. Now I knew from muggle newspapers and medical journals: the world's first IVF pregnancy was reported in 1973 by a research team at Monash University in Australia. Following this, the same team produced nine live births by the end of 1981.

I paid them a visit where they received certain mental influences and additional funding. Part of their equipment was copied at a Death Eater base, and they now worked second shifts for me under Imperius.

Lucius provided the sperm and the blood. I borrowed the eggs from muggles and began raising embryos and homunculi. The results were revolting, most of them completely non-viable. The rates of defects might have been lower had I not accelerated their development with Dark Magic, but I what else could I do, wait nine months? They will not live longer than two months once they are done!

It was far from easy to create even a single homunculus. But Tom was an accomplished Dark wizard with an excellent organization- the Death Eaters. I worked as Elena, with Rosier assisting me under the Dark Lord's orders. More precisely, I was charging the homunculi through him, his source and our concentration camp. And a fresh batch of recruits were helping to the best of their ability: hand me this, go fetch that, don't puke, clean up...

Everything was logical: many wondered what jobs the Lord's student performed for him. Here, look as much as you want. I won't show you anything more sensitive.

Rosier took his orders very hard: obeying Elena, muggles outside their cages. But once he saw hundreds of homunculi... No, he did not fall in love with Elena and did not forgive her past insults. But legilimency showed he developed a certain... begrudging appreciation.

Creating homunculi was illegal for a good reason. I doubt anyone ever produced this many in such short time. If I did it by the old, pre-Statute methods, I would have left behind a mountain of corpses. But why waste a woman's life when I only needed her eggs? Higher rate of defects? We compensated for that with numbers: women produced eggs every month, and muggles did a fine job at collecting them.

The fetuses all fared well. From a medical perspective, they were on full life support: no heartbeat, lungs on ventilator, brains fast asleep. As far as the curse was concerned, they were not alive, so it did not touch them.

The homunculi, however... I was examining one from the least defective lot. The creature resembled a mangled baby Quasimodo the color of rotting meat and stared back at me with the two red pits it had for eyes. Legilimency said it was in pain by merely existing. Just to think, some people willingly tried to cheat death by moving from one homunculus body to the next...

The history of magical arms races and attempts to escape death was full of pages only barely better than horcruxes. Many Dark rituals deserved their bans. In my opinion, experiments with homunculi fell into the top three most deserving. Suffering indescribable pain, victims of insane wizards occasionally gave birth to creatures that could not be considered living beings, much less humans. I was smart enough to stick the homunculi into test tubes instead of women. Only today, four of them turned into something beyond all limits of mutation... We promptly killed them and took a long time cleaning the site with charmed fire and specialized acids. Just in case.

With magic, I turned the vessel to better study the creature I have previously seen only on black and white engravings. It was grotesque. A hairless, sexless body with unnatural... skin? No ears on its head. Mouth shaped as though it was constantly smiling made it look all the more disturbing.

I pointed my wand at one of the muggles. He picked up a vial of unicorn blood with tweezers, drew some with a pipette and open the jar with the homunculus. The creature became agitated. They had no minds of their own but did exhibit some primitive animal instincts. Sensing the blood, the kitten-sized homunculus licked its face with a long, covered in sores tongue and started jumping up the walls. As soon as the muggle dropped some blood, it calmed down, greedily caught the blood with its tongue, then licked itself clean. A few drops made it swell up to the point of resembling a ball with tiny protruding head, arms and legs. Its pleased grin turned even more disgusting...

Time to find a couple more large ones for testing. I have been drawing runes on their bodies and killing them to see what methods result in the best response for the ritual. So far, the two leading options were piercing the heart and cutting the throat.

I have never been squeamish. But perhaps Lucius was right...

Then again, I had no choice but to use homunculi created from Lucius's blood and hair. The rituals I performed with these little monsters paralleled the ritual meant for Lucius's body. I could create many homunculi but only had a handful of Malfoys... And Malfoys owed me a lot, including money!

By the way, I'd better get some biomaterial from a couple of other wizards. Sirius Black headed the list...

For the moment, I had more urgent matters to attend to. Everything was ready for Diana Crouch's healing ritual. There was a problem: Tom had never performed this particular ritual. But he completed much more difficult ones, so I was nearly sure of success. Sadly, there was no option to practice on someone else- too rare of an illness. My weakened Dark Magic made me afraid of embarrassing myself. To prevent it, I added some elements that should strengthen the ritual while looking like my whims on the surface...

I considered delegating it to someone else but decided against it. Both Crouches loved this woman; this way they would owe me. Besides, I needed to occasionally demonstrate my love for Dark Magic and murder. So I should not only conduct the ritual personally but also invite all the radicals: Rosier, the Carrows, Mulciber, Travers, Rowle and Yaxley. And the Lestranges were going to assist me.

There was one more person present. Bound in chains and covered with concealment charms, Pandora Lovegood stood in the corner. I was curious how the entire process would look in her "astral sight." I gained my own "clairvoyant," a live detector... I already had her witness a Dementor's kiss. It was fascinating. I at last began to understand what Dementors meant when they tried to describe the process of consuming a soul.

The Lestranges had already completed the drawings on the floor and filled certain spots with fragments of magical animals: winged horse, thestral, two-horned boomslang... There was even one live thestral. In the center of it all lay unconscious Diana Crouch. A prisoner Auror was chained to the floor next to her. Each of the Lestranges stood in their respective corner with a restrained but conscious muggle. The perimeter of our "ritual rectangle" was lined with sheep- alive, but not for long.

Dark rituals could be roughly divided into two types. Some hinged on the total volume of energy and usually took a large number of sacrifices. Others worked with very few sacrifices but required them to undergo very specific preparations and die in a certain way. The Cordner-Verner syndrome blocking ritual belonged to the latter.

It was time to woo the crowd.

"My loyal followers! I gathered you here today to witness a remarkable spectacle. Ignorant fools are trying to ban Dark Magic. But today I, Lord Voldemort, the heir of Salazar Slytherin, will be using Dark Magic to heal this pureblood witch whose life would otherwise be lost! And it will cost nothing but the lives of these lowly creatures!" and many similar words for seven more minutes.

I was speaking and once again thinking about magic. Magic was very odd. I tried to organize everything into a system, but it refused to fit. Take, for instance, killing someone to charge a spell. Dark Magic, ritual sacrifice subsection. Everything seemed simple. But then why was the ritual of blood protection, where a mother sacrifices herself for her child, considered Light Magic? Light blood magic? Based on human sacrifice? I would write it off as nonsense propaganda, but I learned it from an old book I trusted, and everything else written in it was definitely true. Did it all really come down to motive? Seeing as self-sacrifice to create blood needles was Dark!

For myself, I thought up a simple analogy: if you always walked North, you would eventually reach a point when walking in any direction leads South.

Yes, Dark Magic could heal, albeit contingently. For example, it was possible to rid yourself of a cold by breaking your own leg. Not surprisingly, that ritual never gained popularity. On the other hand, healing a cold by killing a hoofed animal or two was once very common. Dark Magic always attracted those who desired power. On the surface, it seemed to be the answer to all questions. Not strong enough to perform a spell or a ritual? Just kill someone to power it. And in principle, it worked.

But putting it into practice came with its own problems: the more massive the sacrifice, the harder it was to gather and control the released energy. It usually ended in a big boom... A volcano eruption, a tsunami... And in case of battle spells, everything was even more interesting... Tom's Dark Arts mentor once told him a story, not sure how true, about a group of very talented blood specialists who created and performed a ritual to become immortal. That was how vampires first came into existence. Technically, they were immortal: no one has ever known a vampire die of natural causes. They became fast and strong. The only magic they retained was blood, and to a lesser degree mind and transformation. In return, they received a thirst for blood as well as vulnerability to sunlight, fire, silver, Light Magic, and, for some reason, aspen. So, relaxing on the job was a bad idea.

Having finished my speech, I gave the signal to begin.

The Lestranges started to read the spell words, periodically burning sheep and boomslang skin. It would look absolutely meaningless to a layman, but in magical sight every animal death made the runes glow brighter, and every burned magical creature part changed the runes' color. They would go through the entire spectrum before turning black at the end.

I used legilimency on the prisoner and canceled the the silencing charm.

"Curse you! I'm not afraid of you!" he screamed and tried to spit in my face.

No, I was not an idiot. The prisoner had to be conscious: the ritual ingredients included... a scream of a newly insane man. To this end, we found an Auror among the prisoners. He should last the necessary amount of time and only go insane at the very end. I also wanted to use this opportunity to test a new concept: driving him over the edge with hallucinations rather than pure pain.

With one motion of the wand, I poured a number of pain-amplifying potions down his throat and hit him with the escalating pain curse so favored by Dolohov.

After screaming a bit, the Auror started to rant at me:

"You'll never win! You'll pay for everything!" and more of the like.

I fed him feelings of despair and anxiety with legilimency, similarly to my mental battle with Dumbledore. Except this was much easier, even with Frank Longbottom's wand. Damn that Diagon fight for forcing me to flash my wavy wand with Nagini's scale as Elena's!

Speaking to the prisoner was not strictly necessary, but I needed to impress the Death Eaters in attendance.

"Kill a thousand without leaving witnesses," my voice echoed around the hall. "What would you accomplish? Who would fear you? Who would respect and obey you? No, kill a single person and leave their body for the world to see! String them up high, horribly mutilated, bleeding out. And then... disappear. Who will know? Everyone. Who will fear? Everyone. Who will obey? Anyone! People... They have powerful imaginations. Kill a thousand, and they will despise you. Kill a million, and they will line up to fight you. But take the life of one lone victim, and they will begin seeing monsters and demons in every shadow! Kill a dozen, and they will wake up screaming from nightmares. They will not hate, they will only fear. This is the path to obedience. People are nothing more than primitive, blabbering animals... And we benefit from keeping them this way."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw approval on Alecto's and Sebastian's faces. Good, everyone must think Lord Voldemort is on their side.

I hit the prisoner with a shock curse and added the Cruciatus. He would have long lost consciousness had it not been for the potions. I proceeded to burn out his eyes, then pierced the sockets with hot transfigured needles. I would rather finish this up faster, but just like some potions required a set number of stirrings or crushing beetle shells a particular way, rituals too had rules for processing the material and charging the shapes with magic. Nothing personal, just business...

The mangled flesh surrounding the eye sockets swelled in angry red scars. The wizard howled at the top of his lungs. Bellatrix better not try to kill him for insulting me. I had expressly warned her that the Cruciatus or death would only bring him relief.

"What's the matter, can't you see me?" I mocked and laughed with Riddle's mad voice. Because the radicals must be sure of the Lord's love of murder and torture. Why yes, I adore eviscerating everyone personally! See, the Lord is just like you, only more talented.

"My eyes... they're gone!" he wailed. Oh, and what did you expect, a slap on the wrist?

"Ah, yes," I said, listening to Bella's sonorous laughter. "If you have not joined me, then you are blind and don't need eyes."

He tried to cast something, but the chains securely held him in place. They would hold even me, and he was full of potions to boot.

"Why are you doing this?" the prisoner's voice rose in pitch, his outrage outweighing the fear for his life.

"What do you know of... Dark Magic?" I said in a breathy, smoldering tone, as if confessing my love to a woman, and pulled out a ritual knife. The Lestranges were doing a great job, the sheep were almost all gone. They would then kill the thestral and move on to the humans.

"Dark Magic is evil!" he answered. "Slytherin died and so will you!"

"Every Dark wizard came ever closer to immortality. I am the first who has walked this path to the end. You know nothing of Dark Magic, how it feels to melt into her embrace... See the flickering lights... Hear her voice..." I diligently parodied a madman. I was surrounded by people who would not judge me for these views. And their vows won't let them tell anyone...

"You're crazy! Completely crazy!" the Auror tried to spit, gathering saliva with his unruly tongue. But acceleration charms made me much faster. The ritual knife softly whistled as it slashed through the air. The man spat out his severed tongue with a howl.

"Now you'll be quieter," I grumbled, waiting for the screams to die down and give way to wet gurgling. "And pay more attention. You can resist, writhe, try to escape. Your brain may be gripped by unimaginable pain, but you will not be able to turn off your ears, my friend. You will hear me out. And you will feel... feel everything..."

The time for Crucios has passed. Tom had a plethora of experience with knives. Not in combat but precisely when the victim could not resist. I found a comfortable grip and started to cut. Separate strips of meat from arms and legs. Slash the pliant flesh with artistic strikes, freeing the blood. Cleave the ligaments of the knees and shoulders, groin and ankles. Carve out shapes, patterns and runes on the stomach and chest. Slowly peel off the skin. Cut deep grooves into buttocks and back. Cut, cut, cut...

And all that time, I continued speaking and filling his mind with images. Visuals, tactile sensations, smell, the full cocktail of despair... Ignoring the screaming, wheezing, moaning and fitful twitching.

What did I tell and show him? Everything expected of the Dark Lord. I described all that awaited him and reinforced it with legilimency. The potions made the visions nearly real...

I spoke of darkness that so often scared little children. Of nightmares born from a child's vivid imagination. Of boogeymen and spider deities, of witches with scissor-shaped hands and writhing snakes. Of eyeless Dementor faces with wet, insatiable lips that floated to suck out all the light in the world: first happiness, then the soul. I showed him the Dementor's kiss over and over, broadcasting the feelings of execution victims.

I spoke of horrors that tormented people. Of compulsion to mutilate oneself in the name of God. Of blind faith and family perversions that twisted the soul. Of pain for which there was always a reason.

And continued to cut, cut, cut.

I spoke of nightmares that followed people into their waking lives. Of knives in the dark and violence in broad daylight. Of butchers and marauders, monsters next to whom many-headed giants looked kind. Of Fiendfyre closing in from every direction, quicksand filling the lungs, tightening noose rope... Tom had plenty of experiences, and my assistants shared some of their own. And cut. Cut. Cut...

He would be long dead, but stopping someone from bleeding out was simple for a blood master. It mirrored an old muggle execution method: death by a thousand cuts.

I raised my hand, and Bellatrix killed the thestral. New energy spilled into the drawing, connecting with the energy that was already flowing from the prisoner in ornate ripples.

I spoke of fire, of Dementors and Antipatronuses gathering into giant clouds that cover the sky. Of wandering madness brought by the merciful Cruciatus, of Dark Magic wounds that never heal. Of basilisk venom. Of horrors, nightmares, poisons...

Tom had not put so much effort into a single person in years, and for me it was the very first experience of such prolonged and varied torture. Destroying the man's flesh while keeping him from dying and showing him horrible images while keeping him from crossing the brink of insanity tired me out.

As I understood this ritual, the horror of the torture directly affected the quality of the scream and therefore the quality of healing. I could not afford to risk a relapse. It would birth rumors that the Lord has "gone soft," could not work Diana properly. I depended on my reputation much like a politician. And besides, I had long wanted to measure necroenergy from non-magical torture... I would just need to subtract the values of the spells I used today...

I tore the flesh and splintered the bones. The prisoner no longer looked human. Carrow stared at me the way Bellatrix usually did. Rosier was smiling at me with Dumbledore's trademark all-forgiving expression.

At last, I felt it: soon not even I would be able stop the victim from slipping into insanity. More than anything, it reminded of the feeling of an unavoidably approaching orgasm... At my signal, the Lestranges simultaneously finished off the four muggles they have been torturing to the best of their ability. New streams of energy rushed towards the prisoner.

Incredibly, the man was still holding on. And so, I began showing him my own memories. He saw a horde of acromantulas, wave after wave of invincible eight-legged terror trampling the Aurors... In association with soullessness, he saw a lake of inferi waiting in the wings... He saw the results of my latest experiments: breeding of chimeras, effects of magical creature blood on people, and especially the results of raising homunculi. He saw people, misshapen and wrong, mutilated in ways no mutations or radiation could ever compare. People with tentacles and claws in place of hands, compound eyes, multiple extra joints, eyes sprouting on arms, legs and other unexpected places. People covered in runes that made his eyes hurt...

 _"It's not true! It can't be true!_ " he cried in his thoughts, trying to banish the images away.

"Do you honestly believe your thoughts, you blind fool?" I asked. "Look closer... Do you not see that these horrors are so great they cannot be imaginary? They all exist in this world... You simply have yet to experience them..."

The only answer I got was wails of despair. The Auror went limp on the floor, muttering something...

And then he broke out in a primal scream of Fear. Scream that would scare a banshee... The dam collapsed, the kaleidoscope of visions took control of his thoughts, the voices burst through his ears and sank their sharp claws deep into his mind. When the scream reached its unbearable final crescendo, I passed through the sticky dregs of blood and excrement and plunged the knife into his heart.

The runes turned charcoal-black. The man's body began to transform into a dark splotch that in magical sight looked like something between an Antipatronus, a Dementor and an Obscurus.

"I, Lord Voldemort, by the way of sacrificial blood, sacrificial pain, sacrificial mind, and sacrificial life, heal this woman from the Cordner-Verner syndrome!"

Then came the hard part. The cloud did not want to obey. It did not want to heal. It only wanted to dissolve... ideally, everything. The strain of it felt like holding a heavy weight in outstretched arms. The cloud slowly drifted towards the unconscious woman. One mistake- and Crouch would be left without a mother. Two mistakes- and the cloud would begin crushing everything around it, though the Death Eaters would likely fight it off or escape.

But no. As it approached Diana, her body shout out dark cords. The cloud was simply sucking something out of her. This was the standard principle of healing most Dark curses: like attracting like. Except, the process was usually much simpler.

Once the cloud absorbed all of the blackness, it wanted to swallow her body. I did not let it, feeling like wrangling a raging Fiendfyre and Twilight Flame at once, like putting liquor in a drunk's mouth and ordering not to swallow... The cloud finally relented and floated to the side. And then it looked as if someone pulled out the drain plug: the darkness started to suck into itself in a whirlpool until it disappeared. It was over. Only strong Dark traces in the room and on Diana Crouch betrayed what had happened.

"Edward, check Diana," I said, trying my best to look nonchalant and not at all tired.

Edward waved his wand around the woman. Touched her with an amulet, then cut his hand... What, did it not work?

"Your conclusion, Edward?"

"My Lord... She is... healthy," he said.

"Was the blocking a success? Is her life no longer in danger?" I clarified.

"Milord.. there is no block. She is just healthy. There are no traces of her ever having the syndrome!" Lestrange exclaimed in awe.

I might have gone a little overboard... But it was for the best: I could tell her I healed her with Light Magic.

I quickly checked the woman myself. Yes, everything was right.

"Behold the true power of Lord Voldemort!" I proclaimed. Not quite resurrecting the dead, but still impressive.

After talking everyone's ears off, handing Diana over to Edward's care and summoning Barty Jr. to visit her, I went home to relax.

Why was she cured? Was it my own merits or Voldemort simply never tried putting an earnest effort into healing anyone? Probably the latter...

After resting a bit, I measured the gained necroenergy. A lot... The ritual must be "dirty." Oh well. At least the sight of a brutally murdered Auror should reduce the number of those willing to fight me. They won't be able to sweep it under the rug: my people had orders to leave the body in a public place, and a truthful expert report on the cause of his death was already being printed abroad.

I entered Pandora's mind to watch the ritual in "Lovegood sight." Everything was bizarre. Some glowing shapes vaguely resembling wrackspurts swarmed the reddish haze that pulsated in tune with the victim's heartbeat... The black smoke swallowing him looked almost identical to a Dementor's kiss. When the prisoner died, the air softly rippled like a pond next to a windmill, and then... She was describing some shades that dropped something and carried the prisoner's dying scream away. In her words, "carried it beyond the edge of eternity... Something heard the cry and came... Once the food was gone, it left..."

I crawled out of Pandora's mind drenched in cold, sticky sweat. No, she was just insane. Or, to put it more mildly, she incorrectly interpreted what she saw. There was no such thing as "Living Darkness." What I had done was nothing more than siphon Dark Magic out of Diana, akin to removing steel shavings from a heap of hay with a magnet. At most, I could maybe entertain the idea that I summoned an animal from another world. An animal with very distinct appetites... Wasn't that what demonologists used to practice before they were finally eradicated?

...Maybe I could find or create a creature that fed on necroenergy? But what if it started to breed?

Speaking of which, there was one more thing I wanted to test.

I soon stood in the Lestranges' training rink, its wards set to maximum. I recalled every detail of healing Diana and raised my wand to conjure an Antipatronus. Smoke poured out. I waited for it to gather into a thestral, but it instead took the shape of an Obscurus. And it was noticeably stronger than my old thestral...

* * *

 **Alastor Moody**

Alastor was once again cursing everyone out. The changes to the Auror and Order training programs only passed after direct pressure from Dumbledore! Took them long enough, but they finally increased the trainees' hours from 12 to 14 per day and decreased the off days from two to one per week. Drink more potions, you snots! And practice brewing while you're at it. While you sleep, Dark wizards are training!

He has long been arguing that they should issue a Time-Turner to every Auror. "This many Time-Turners don't exist!" they said. Well, make more! But it was all right. Albus secretly told him that once Scrimgeour is elected Minister, Alastor will be promoted to lead the DMLE! Then Alastor will write himself an authorization for a Time-Turner!

He did not need legilimency to know what everybody thought of him: senile old man. But he wasn't crazy!

After meeting Voldemort's horned serpent, which allegedly was last seen in Europe centuries ago, he dug into books on extinct monsters, then personally interrogated a couple of historians and professor Kettleburn. None of them were at fault. When he started training his subordinates in the new spells, they looked at him like he was an idiot. Even Kingsley! Ungrateful bastards! What would you do if a Purple Humtuza ambushed you from around the corner and you didn't know the spells against it?! What Humtuza? They supposedly went extinct some time during the Sumerian era. No one dared to say it to his face, but Alastor had no doubts: they did not believe him! They probably all wanted to send him to a "well-earned rest" if it weren't for the war.

If you searched for Dark wizards and did not find any, there could only be two reasons: you were bad at searching or they were good at hiding. But that was all right. Alastor had the authority to organize frequent unscheduled searches. And now, cussing under their breath, the Aurors were making a sweep of the London metro. People began to disappear here. Alastor knew it was all Voldemort's fault! This time, they will find evidence. Search better, rookies! And constant vigilance!

"Alastor... There's nothing here... Our shift starts in an hour, the guys should get some sleep," Kingsley complained.

"Drink more potions. You've only been awake for three days, Pepperup toxicity does not kick in until the seventh."

All right... They found nothing again. They may have no direct evidence, but they will come back here. Next time with backup, officially reported as another random search.

And the wizards disapparated.

* * *

 **The creature that escaped from a Death Eater lab and was once a Boggart**

When it first became self-aware, it found itself in a strange room, chained down by a strange drawing. Despite lacking a physical body, the creature was somewhat sentient, though it heavily relied on its animal cunning and ancestral memories. It knew it was in no position to rebel. It ate and waited. And listened. For some reason, it was alone. Completely alone...

The ancestors' memories said wizards should not look like this. They had strange magic, and they were bewilderingly careless: none had shields against its kind. And what were they holding in their hands? Not staves... But they worked! The runes were different too... And there were no pyramids! Then where did they kill one another? Where lived the powerful wizards who must be avoided?

The creature did not rush. It gathered information, though it did not know the meaning of the word. It almost attempted an escape but reconsidered. From time to time, it saw a powerful wizard who could defeat it without specialized charms, especially while it was restrained. The creature saw the entire tree of probabilities several seconds into the future. It knew that if it tried to break free, its jailers will call for backup in every possible scenario. And so it waited.

One time it felt a strong magic eruption. Very strong. From the experiences of past generations, it knew this meant all powerful wizards were distracted.

The creature made a break for it. Freed from the binds, it started tasting the magic around it. It was in an unknown place with dozens of small sources of power and three large ones. But most of all it was surprised by the number of people. There was a lot of them, a truly gigantic number! Some were even flying in huge metal boxes without magic!

The wizards' numbers were very few in comparison, but the world had changed into something unrecognizable. Perhaps now non-magicals were dangerous as well... Or had ways to quickly call on their wizard owners for help in case of a direct attack.

The creature's first desire was food. Some sentient prey, best of all human flesh and magic. Both were abundant all around. But the hunger was tolerable. It did not attack immediately.

It focused on the three large sources of magic, it simply felt them like some animals sensed north. Technically, any of the three would do... But one of them had a large number of people around, so that was where it decided to go. The generational experience said that if ten disappeared among a hundred, everyone would look for them; ten disappearing among a hundred thousand would not be missed.

The creature made its ghostly flesh maximally thin and seeped underground. It flowed through the dirt like water, ignoring the hunger. Secrecy was more important. Three days later it reached the place humans called London. It was a perfect place! A luxurious system of underground tunnels to hide in, especially since it could become invisible to non-magicals. The creature chose its victims carefully, and several disappearances have not alarmed anyone.

The situation with magic was worse. It feared coming any closer to the large source because the building on top of it stored many dangerous items within the lowest level. The creature had to satisfy itself with crumbs that barely let it grow.

Then, wizards began searching for it. Their numbers were great, but they acted foolishly. None of them had defenses against its kind! It was about to make a snack of the obtuse hunters when it noticed a one-legged one with a strange locator artifact. He had the specialized shields against it and cast the correct spells to detect it. And even though his work was sloppy, as if he did not quite understand what to do and was repeating something he only heard in passing, it was a problem. In every possible future, it had no time to defeat him before he called for help. The reinforcements included a powerful one who at first had no defenses against it, but then the strongest shield instantly appeared! And he held something very strange in his hand... But the creature knew there could not be too many like him.

What could it do? Run farther? Lack of food would do it in more surely than any enemy. If it ate, the wizards would come back. The creature knew how annoying they were: killing a couple was easy, but new ones would just keep coming... Then, its instincts took over. Nest... It needed a nest. This place had enough magic to feed the offspring. But then they must be protected...

If Voldemort read the same books Moody had recently read, he would know they created a very dangerous abomination. Its original name had been long lost to history, but the Aztecs once called it Tlahuilopochtli...


	37. Crimes of the Order of the Phoenix

I continued my quest of self-improvement and preparing traps for Dumbledore with the help of the Time-Turner. The Auror training program took five years to complete. I may not be training to become an Auror, but for me five years would be gone in less than one. Soon the enemy would meet a very different Dark Lord, notwithstanding my persistent failures in Light Magic.

At the moment, I was approaching a nondescript house as disillusioned Elena. The wards were nominal – strong magic traces in a muggle neighborhood would have raised suspicions. I came here to visit the only Order member I located through Fletcher. I'd rather send someone else, but, alas, they would not understand. Or might kill the target during capture.

I quickly stunned and frisked the old woman, then dragged her to one of our secondary bases.

Arabella Figg was a squib. Albus, you accepted a squib into the Order!

No, I'd welcome anyone, down to a muggle or a bird, if only they were useful. But how did he account for information leaks?! Vows would not take on a squib! Was it something unique to the Elder Wand or a clever trick I could modify to fit my goals? Plenty of muggle veterans would sell their souls for new arms and legs. Give them new faces, new fingerprints, new documents to match... I would need to very carefully examine Figg... Much more than a day's work, all the while I already had my hands full with studying horcruxes, Pandora's sight... And I did not know where to even begin with Albus's golden flame, disembodiment by name, and Pandora's interpretation of Diana Crouch's healing ritual...

A few hours later, I was preparing for my first acts of public relations sabotage against the Order of the Phoenix. I did not know what else to squeeze out of zombie-Hagrid and decided to dispose of him with a bang. The original idea was to have him commit some gruesome crime. We would then publish the story of this unfathomably cruel half-giant (photos of a large fat man with tangled beard included), mentioning that he was expelled from Hogwarts on suspicions of murder. And this monster lived next to children at Dumbledore's behest!

But for one, nobody who knew Hagrid personally would believe it. The most damage this particular half-giant could do was get drunk, lean on a fence and break it. He did not have the foresight to get involved with the Death Eaters. Second, the racist Lord would never accept a non-human into his ranks.

In the end, I went with the only plausible option: playing on Hagrid's well-known fondness for dangerous animals. After all, he truly was responsible for acromantulas settling in the Forbidden Forest. If we framed it correctly... I'd only need to cover him in charms to conceal the fact that he was dead and bathe him in dragon blood to imitate his natural magic resistance...

With a habitual movement, I picked up the Time-Turner.

I-14 entered Horace's cell. I had finally purged him of all potions and antidotes. After pouring the Veritaserum based on his blood into his unconscious body, I woke my old potions professor.

"First, you are going to tell me the names and addresses of everyone you have ever accepted into the Slug Club and which of them have the most potential with the Dark Arts."

Horace began to speak in monotone, and a quill wrote everything down. I could always use more recruits. Then we would move on to his proprietary potions, secret stashes, conversations with Albus...

I-11 was teaching Lily occlumency. After the lesson, she voiced her desire to meet with Wormtail.

"Why do you need that, Lily?" I asked.

"I want to see his eyes."

My first thought was that she wanted to subject him to legilimency. A terrible idea: her legilimency skills topped at frying the brains of non-resisting targets. My second thought was that she wanted to kill Peter and take his eyes as a trophy. Giving up on this ridiculous guessing game, I entered her mind. It turned out she wanted to see how Peter lived with himself after betraying the Potters. Not only the Potters, she did not know the half of it... Her original thirst for his blood has waned. Not good...

"It is a terrible idea. He knew you well. If he realizes you are not Elena, I would be forced to kill one of you," I said. In truth, I counted on Peter not surviving for much longer.

"Please, my Lord, arrange me a meeting with him. I will be careful," she whined.

"You'll have your meeting. Do keep yourself under control this time. If everything goes completely wrong, you may defend yourself. I will stand nearby under concealment, lest we have a replay of the situation with Snape."

She was about to protest that this was deeply personal.

"You meet him on my terms or not at all," I said.

"I agree."

I frantically ran through the options of setting up their fight to the death... I got to know her rather well thanks to frequent legilimency. If I chose my words carefully, she would reject them and feel motivated to do exactly what I needed...

Shortly after, I was already speaking to Peter.

"My Lord, your plan to liquidate Lupin is brilliant, but I am afraid Dumbledore will suspect me..."

"I know how to send him on a false trail. Wormtail, I have a special assignment for you. Fulfilling it will earn you a place in the Inner Circle and make Dumbledore forget all about checking you."

"I am listening, my Lord."

"After you kill Lupin with me watching your back, apparate to these coordinates. There, you will undergo an interview and a test duel. No Unforgivables! If you pass, you will be promoted."

"If I may ask, my Lord, who is going to test me?"

"My student."

"But my Lord, I thought she was dead?"

"No. But she is not at her best. You will drink potions, and she will go easy on you. Everything will look like your heroic deed. She fails to kill you, you escape to receive a new Order of Merlin and become Dumbledore's favorite."

The key to overcoming Dumbledore was planting an agent. Severus did an excellent job, but masking Peter was becoming harder and harder. And after this next stunt, his discovery would only be a matter of time. Dead men tell no tales, so he should be elegantly sacrificed in exchange for painting Lily black... He made the most likely candidate for her first killing curse.

"As you wish, my Lord," he answered.

* * *

 **Remus Lupin**

Remus Lupin reached for the ringing receiver without opening his eyes .

"Hello," he mumbled, fighting off the sleep.

"Hey Remus, are you still asleep? It's noon!"

"Hi Peter. My night shift just ended at nine. Don't worry about it, we can talk."

Once upon a time, Lupin was a gifted Hogwarts student. His world was a fairy tale, his future looked brilliant... But after graduating, he realized the grim reality: nobody wanted a werewolf. A werewolf could not find a job. A werewolf could not qualify for a business license. Live off the land? Poaching was punishable by law. Escape to a country with unclaimed lands and live as a wolf? No one would let a dangerous XXXXX-class creature cross the border.

Albus offered him work as his personal bodyguard for five hundred galleons a month. Or as his gardener, for three hundred. Remus understood perfectly well it was a farce. Remus Lupin did not need anyone's charity! He would make it on his own.

It was hard. The wizarding world rejected him. He got by living as a muggle, despite the Ministry interfering every step of the way. Having a wand and a Hogwarts diploma helped, but he had no muggle credentials. No money for education. No knowledge to pass any school entrance exams. Tamper with everyone's memories? How would he forge papers at multiple locations simultaneously? He'd either had to beg Dumbledore or go to prison for illegal magic use. He considered working as a long-distance trucker, but his Order schedule made it impossible.

He was a werewolf. Once a month, he turned into a powerful, uncontrollable murder machine. And could transform at will at any time with the same results. This made werewolves outcasts.

In his human form, he retained some of his supernatural strength, endurance and senses, especially smell. He found a muggle job as a mover. He worked for five, got paid for two. One time, his "colleagues" tried to beat him out of jealousy. They failed. When his boss got curious how he could possibly be this strong, Remus almost went to prison for Obliviating them. Professor Dumbledore helped. Now Remus was smarter: he lifted no more than a human but never got tired. When the new employer questioned his endurance, Remus said he was a drug addict and did not get tired on the pills. The inane questions stopped.

All in all, he made enough money. For rent. As for food... it was easy to multiply with magic. But, of course, this was not his primary job. He was Dumbledore's only werewolf spy. The numbers of aggressive werewolves have been steeply increasing, which was strange because the neutrals stayed neutral...

Albus Dumbledore offered him a salary: two thousand galleons per month for risking his life on the job. Remus refused to take the money. He would never sell out his own kin, he worked for the Order because it was the right thing to do!

"I was just thinking... We never really talked about James's, Lily's and Harry's deaths. It doesn't feel right. Let's go to a muggle bar and drink to their repose? I know a good place," Peter suggested.

The Potters' murder ate at Remus's heart... How could he not realize Sirius Black was a traitor? Voldemort must have had a good laugh when the Potters made his man their secret keeper... Astoundingly, Peter defeated Black. Though, the traitor simply got too arrogant – to conduct a Dark ritual in the middle of London!

"All right. Let's meet today after five. This bar is not too expensive, I hope? Do they allow casual clothes?" Lupin asked. Peter recently came into money and invited him to attend his Order of Merlin award ceremony. Remus had to decline. What would he do there in his rags, play a fool?

"They let you in wearing anything you want. Don't worry, I will pay for everything."

"No. We split the bill. Give me the address, I will be there at five."

After exchanging a couple more words, they said their goodbyes. At five in the evening, Remus put on his non-work outfit and apparated to the bar. It was an average watering hole, some patrons looked even worse off than Remus.

Peter was already waiting and took him to a booth in the far corner. Remus usually avoided drinking, even if his werewolf body easily handled alcohol. Though he once made a good bit of money outdrinking other movers on a job...

They drank the first round, second, third... Reminisced about the good times with their late friends... It was as if talking to Peter broke an invisible wall in Remus. He mustn't cry, it would not bring them back... Thinking about Harry hurt the most. They were all adults who knew the risks, but how much of the world did the baby get to experience? Remus didn't know whether to laugh or cry: he was only twenty but already thought he had seen everything... Curse this war...

Peter was talking about his life. Who could have guessed that the humblest Maradeur would accomplish so much! Order of Merlin, plenty of money... No, Remus was not jealous, but...

Sirius Black. Wealthy, handsome, a ladies' man. Dead and disgraced.

James Potter. Wealthy, handsome. Far from Black but still a womanizer. Dead.

Remus Lupin. A good student, a prefect. A werewolf and an outcast.

Lily Potter. Beautiful, kind, a good student... Hopefully she didn't suffer much before dying...

Sad, unbearably sad...

Two hours later, he decided it was time to wrap this up. He no longer had enough money to cover his half of the bill. Peter insisted on one last pint. Fine.

Remus picked up his beer but hesitated to drink it. Something felt off... His own reaction made sense, to a werewolf this much alcohol was a drop in the bucket. But Peter, shouldn't he be snoozing under the table or at least garble like Hagrid? But he was bright and chipper! Did he drink a potion to neutralize the alcohol before coming here? Then what was the point of drinking? And he looked a bit tense...

Remus snatched out his wand and pointed it at Peter.

"What did I say when we pulled down Snivellus's pants under the Whomping Willow?"

"That it's easy to recognize a werewolf: he wears your clothes and answers to Remus Lupin. What's with you, friend? It's me, Peter. Here, I'm going to turn into a rat and back, watch."

And he indeed turned into Wormtail and back. Yes, it was definitely Peter. His paranoia must have been acting up again. Maybe Peter ate well? Or had alcohol evaporate through his mouth since was talking non-stop?

"Sorry. Nerves. I should probably finish drinking, my shift starts soon."

"I don't hold it against you. Let's drink this last one. To the Potters' souls!"

Peter sipped first from his mug, then from Remus's, then finished his own.

Remus again picked up his beer and sniffed it. The smell... Something was wrong with both of their drinks. They smelled... like ordinary beer, only more... artificial? A poison? Or just a bad batch? He checked it with charms. All clear. He scanned the entire bar. All clear. No invisible people, no magic disturbances... He took a big breath. What did humans smell like? To a werewolf, they smelled of everything: food, soap, sweat, deodorant, bodily fluids... And the two people two booths away smelled unnatural. A magically falsified smell? Two more wizards in a third-rate muggle pub?

"Peter, something is wrong with this beer. And those two people in that booth are strange. It's most likely a false alarm, but you should go to and bring someone from the Order. I'll keep an eye on them. Tell Albus-"

However, that very moment he got hit with a spell from above. He did not hear the words, but Moody had trained the entire Order to resist the Imperius. The world faded away, leaving only one very persuasive voice... It was such a bliss not to think about anything, to live at ease... This Imperius put Moody's to shame.

Peter only stared at him, unsure of what was happening. Gathering up the last of his willpower, Remus told him:

"I'm under Imperius... Call Dumbledore!" it took him over ten seconds to get the words out. He couldn't apparate. Couldn't reach his wand with hands that moved at snail speed.

"They are werewolves! I'll save you!" screamed Peter, jumping up from his seat and throwing around Depulsos.

The two suspicious men transformed into wolves and started to wreck the pub.

'Is Peter under Imperius too?' thought Lupin. He was still trying to resist the voice when a penetrator from above crippled his shields. Someone's vice telekinetic grip locked the mug in his hand and lifted it to his mouth. He pressed his lips together, but several drops of beer still made it inside. The moment they touched his throat, he felt the beast breaking free. He tried to fight it, but it felt the same as during the full moon. The monster took control. Remus saw, felt and understood everything but could not stop it. His claws and teeth tore into everything in sight on their own volition...

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Peter. Peter moved with the skill of an experienced soldier, as if guided by someone else's will. The two werewolves should have easily killed him, especially in a small enclosed space, but Peter somehow hit one with an Avada by predicting the beast's trajectory. The second wolf was about to rip Peter apart. He had no time to aim his wand. But it was as if an invisible hand pushed Peter ten feet to the side and threw the wolf at the opposite wall wrapped in ropes. The wolf almost instantly broke out of his binds but fell to Peter's second Avada. Remus knew for a fact Peter was not skilled at wandless magic, much less on this level.

Aside from a dozen of muggles with various degrees of injuries, only Remus and Peter remained alive. Remus's wolf tried to jump at the enemy, but his feet got glued to the floor. He growled, but the growl was cut short by another Avada.

* * *

Right after the operation, Peter made a chain of apparitions to a nondescript clearing. A number of amulets buried there shielded everything short of Fiendfyre from outside attention. He was greeted by Lily-Elena in a Death Eater uniform. I watched the two school friends' reunion disillusioned.

"I'm happy to see you, milady," Peter groveled, bowing low. A correct decision: the cardinal rule of talking to maniacs is not provoking them unless you can demonstratively crush them. "I hope your strength returns to you soon. The Dark Lord said you wished to speak to me," he continued politely. Elena had a reputation for using the Cruciatus at every opportunity, and Peter was a halfblood like Severus.

"Wormtail... Tell me how you ended up a Death Eater," Lily commanded. She cooled off in the past few months and no longer wished him death. A nice heart-to-heart chat would fix that.

In truth, Peter was not so bad. He joined out of fear. But he would never tell that to the Lord's student.

"I've always lived in Potter's and Black's shadow," he said. Lying about devotion only made sense if your occlumency outclassed the opponent's legilimency. Thus, Peter emphasized the profit of serving the Lord, as I instructed him. "I didn't have their money, their parents' connections, or their aristocratic status. Their everyday accomplishments were at the edge of my abilities. Lupin had none of their benefits either, but he was a good student, a prefect, a favorite of Dumbledore, who bent school rules in his favor. I was always left behind. Enough. I'm fed up with swimming against the current when others walk on their lofty bridge. My life is my own. When the Dark Lord offered to change it for the better, I accepted."

"And you didn't feel sorry Lily, James and Harry?"

He did. But own comfort came first.

"It was the Dark Lord's will. And Lily was just a mudblood!"

Peter was not a pureblood supremacist, but people often say what they think others want to hear. Especially if they have already suffered under torture curses for saying "muggleborn."

"Maybe you are just under Imperius?" Elena asked.

"No. Ever since I joined the Dark Lord, my life has been constantly improving! I have money, I have fame, and women love heroes."

"Money I understand, but where did you get fame?"

Peter's face flashed with confusion.

"Milady, everyone thinks Sirius Black was the Potters' secret keeper. To stop the truth from coming out, I killed him. It earned me the Order of Merlin."

Not reading newspapers was very bad for you. Oh, that's right, you're not allowed.

"You killed Sirius? James wasn't enough?"

"The Dark Lord has done more for me than all my so-called friends ever have! All his enemies shall die!" Peter exclaimed, playing up the fanaticism in hopes of quick dividends. "The Potters were only the beginning of my rise! I killed Black, and now Lupin! Not only it was profitable, I enjoyed it!"

As a theater critic would say, 'you are overacting!' But there were no professional critics present here.

Lily tried to convince herself that Peter had been threatened or put under Imperius. She desperately wanted to say she was Lily, but the vow did not let her. In the end, she settled on a half-measure and took off her mask. Her face was twisted with disgust.

"Peter, I want to look into your eyes," she said.

Wormtail was thinking. Loyalty was paramount. What ensured it -devotion, fear or greed- did not really matter. Expecting wandless nonverbal legilimency, he obediently stared into her eyes without blinking. Only Lily was not skilled in any form of legilimency whatsoever...

" _Peter_ ," I said in his mind. " _Elena is satisfied with your loyalty. She will now proceed to test your battle skills. Don't hold back, she'll go easy on you._ "

" _Lily_ ," I said in hers, " _you blew it. He realized that the Lord's pureblood maniac student cannot act this way. Defend yourself!_ "

Confirming my words, Peter pulled out his wand and attacked.

"Stupefy! Bombarda! Reducto!" he began.

"Protego! Stupefy!" Lily responded.

The instincts Snape hammered into her brain took over. Their duel escalated beyond Hogwarts curriculum, but it was nothing impressive.

" _How did he know? What do I do?_ " Lily asked.

" _It is much easier to list everything you did right. Good job on not bowing to him. The rest was all wrong! You are a powerful witch, everyone expects you to treat others like dirt. If you don't, it looks suspicious. And pitying Lily or the werewolf is unthinkable!_ "

Lily demonstrated her water whip but did not land a single hit. No, she was not a complete imbecile. Peter moved too fast under his high dose of doping. The irony was, he posed zero threat. Bombarda? It wouldn't get through her shields! If, by some miracle, it did, it would meet a stack of defensive amulets. If the amulets failed, the universal shield I placed on her would activate.

" _As for what you should do... If you ask, I will kill him for you,_ " I offered, knowing she would never accept.

" _Can you erase his memories?_ " she asked while throwing five stunners in a row at Peter. He dodged every one. Snape brewed excellent potions...

Lily finally remembered to cast acceleration charms on herself and began to hit him with stunners and shield penetrators. Peter was holding on so far... She should have slowed him down but evidently did not know the charm.

" _He learned what he shouldn't have because of your carelessness. Obliviating him is not foolproof. The memories can still be recovered at the cost of destroying his body. He must be killed now._ "

" _I don't want to kill anyone. Not even him..._ "

" _Would you rather I did it?_ "

" _What about imprisoning him?_ "

" _It would not be secure,_ " I answered without directly saying no.

" _I can't beat him. Will you help me?_ "

Not everything was so clear cut. Peter appeared to be winning, but he fought werewolves right before this and arrived already tired. The potions he took mobilized his existing reserves to increase his speed and reaction time - precisely what was needed against werewolves. Another minute or two of this tempo, and Lily would be able to take him down with her bare hands. He feared falling back on Unforgiveables: if anything happened to the Lord's student, his death would be very slow. And Lily was unlikely to exhaust her defenses before the fight ended...

" _Lily, he is winning. He took high quality acceleration potions. Quickly, turn the fight in your favor before it's too late. Drop him with the Cruciatus, then finish him off. Or attack with Avada right away,_ " I urged her. " _Or I can do it for you._ "

" _I don't need your help,_ " she predictably changed her mind.

I watched her thoughts race chaotically. For a brief moment, she recalled some of the Lestranges' books she read while searching for information on horcruxes. To be honest, I panicked. What if she tried to cast something very Dark? When she inevitably fails, my concealment of the clearing would come off, and she might lose her arms! But almost immediately, her mind turned to a safer direction: area attacks with standard spells.

Peter did not hesitate to large-scale explosive and fire curses. He believed that regardless of her health problems, the Lord's student would not fall to them. He was right.

Lily decided to try one of the fire spells she learned from Snape and practiced more than once. Taking into account Peter's excellent dodging, she blanketed the entire clearing. Everything burned, except the two most protected objects: her and me... She counted on Peter to wear himself out by holding off the flames. But Peter was not Severus. His already weakened shields could not handle this moderately-charmed fire. The result was obvious: a charred corpse. As for me, the fire stripped off all invisibility charms – concealment always came off the easiest.

Reflexively, Lily continued to throw stunners at the falling body. Then, realizing what she had done, she fell on her knees and started throwing up. And since all her defenses were two-sided, the vomit dripped down the side of her spherical shield...

It was my move.

"You Gryffindors are terrifying. Dumbledore doesn't want to kill me, so he tried to disembody me instead. You didn't want to Avada Peter, so you burned him alive. From the perspective of British magical law, you acted correctly: killing with Avada Kedavra is a life in Azkaban, killing by burning alive - around twelve years given a good attorney. But don't you think an Avada would have been more humane?" I said, dispelling her shields and cleaning her up.

Lily's thoughts flared with hatred. She reached for her dropped wand and instantly collapsed with a stopped heart. The vow was no joke. She could think about killing me all she wanted, but any intentional step to harm me would feel very unpleasant.

"The main priority is to protect my fragile image of not entirely a monster," I reminded myself, restarting her heart.

"Testing your vow was unnecessary. I don't understand, why are you angry at me? You wished to speak to Peter, and you did. You made a mistake in your act. He saw through the pretense and tried to stun you, to curry favor with the Lord for delivering a spy. I offered to help you: don't do anything, I will kill him. You refused. You killed him yourself, even though I would have used a much more humane method. How is any of it my fault?"

"You set everything up," she glowered.

"Which of you did I put under Imperius? You? Him? I didn't direct your hands! I warned you that meeting with Peter was a bad idea. You insisted and proceeded to kill my servant! And not just any servant, the one who was successfully spying on Dumbledore and has removed multiple Order members! Don't you think that if anyone has any right to complain, it is only I?"

Her thoughts whirled around what the Lord might demand for Peter's death. Or how he might punish her...

"Only for the sake of Severus Snape's accomplishments, I forgive you this first and last time. Never kill any of my people again!"

"My Lord, is he really... dead?"

Good question. From the perspective of muggle medicine, he was. The blast wave crushed his shields, the fire caused severe burns to the entire body. But he was alive until three stunners stopped his heart. In the absence of Dark Magic wounds or fatal brain damage, it was possible to show miracles of healing and put the patient back together. And that was exactly why I kept speaking: while we talked, the subject's brain cells were dying.

"Lily, I am not omnipotent. I can do much, but I can't resurrect... Although, if you want, I can make him get up, retaining his current smell and color. What do you prefer: a zombie, an inferus, a lich? Maybe a skeleton?"

"No! Leave him be! What's going to happen to me now?"

"Nothing. As far as everyone is concerned, you killed a member of the Order. Very few know Peter served me. If they ask, say that the halfblood didn't show your enough respect."

On one hand, killing my own people was a strange plan. But after Lupin's death, Peter would have been subjected to a thorough investigation. One way or another, it was time for Elena to officially "come back to life." And "the werewolf princess" had a nice ring to it. I had to lure the werewolves and other non-humans to my side somehow. I was not racist, but personally dealing with them would be unbecoming of the Lord. Certain pureblood snobs wouldn't understand. Sending my student both showed concern for non-humans and respected the traditions...

I called the house elf to take her home, then pulled out my wavy wand to clean up Peter's murder scene and prepare my own version of events...

A journalistic investigation later uncovered that Remus Lupin, the right hand of his werewolf sire Greyback, had infiltrated the Order of the Phoenix. He successfully fed Dumbledore disinformation about the existence of "peaceful werewolves," whereas in reality all werewolves have long been serving He Who Must Not Be Named. Lupin decided to avenge the death of his good friend and ally, a dangerous Death Eater Sirius Black. He invited two well-known Greyback's subordinates, known as Fang and Paws, to join him in his revenge. Heroic Peter Pettigrew saved several muggles from the dangerous beasts. Because werewolves were not human, his use of Unforgivables was not a punishable offense.

Albus Dumbledore's and DMLE investigations found no potions or any traces of outside tampering. For this act of valor, Peter was posthumously awarded the Order of Merlin, second class.

Having interrogated several werewolves, the Aurors determined the location where Fang and Paws should have returned to receive their reward. There, they found Peter's burned and mangled body. Heroic Peter tracked the werewolves' superior but overestimated his abilities and died. An additional inquiry later found that he was killed by the Lord's student herself. Peter received the first class of the Order of Merlin for his bravery.

* * *

Temporarily leaving aside the Time-Turner, I was getting ready to capture the Tonkses. We stood three hundred yards from their house, disillusioned. A modest house next to a tiny pond appeared a strange bubble in magical sight. Testing it with Narcissa's, Bella's and Sirius's blood confirmed Andromeda was definitely there. It was difficult to make a mistake from such short distance.

The plan was simple: Selwyn, Nott and Jugson break the wards and keep the area uninteresting to everyone on the outside. Malfoy with Crabbe and Goyle wait nearby in reserve. The Lestranges, Mulciber and I break in and quickly restrain everyone while they are asleep at four in the morning. The Dark Lord and five highly skilled wizards against a muggleborn, disowned Andromeda and a seven year old child should be perfectly safe.

Jugson's team finished the preparations. Nott cut himself and started muttering something. The assault team rushed towards the house.

We were met by half-naked Ted and Andromeda shooting some trifles. The internal connection brought a message from Rabastan: the girl fell to the very first sleeping charm, and he whisked her away. The parents went berserk. Ted started pelting us with fire as good as Lily's but quickly caught two Crucios. Andromeda apparently remembered her family education and tried to concoct something fancy. She got hit with Bella's wandless Cruciatus and lost consciousness. After searching the captives and restraining them, we went back. The entire operation barely lasted five seconds.

Soon, I was examining my new treasure: Nymphadora Tonks, fast asleep under the Draught of The Living Death. I had an enormous number of ideas for utilizing metamorphism. At first, I simply wanted to change my appearance. But if the transformation created new cells, it could be a solution to death from old age or at the very least guarantee life-long youth.

Then I started to actively consider improving wandless magic. Wands facilitated magic use; they were essentially specialized tools. Some tried implanting a wand into the body. All those attempts ended poorly as the body rejected foreign magic, it was no better than trying to attach someone else's arm with medieval medicine. My idea was incredibly simple: grow another organ to act as a wand. Some bone in my hand...

I saw two problems. First, however brilliant one may be, it was impossible to create a wand from only own tissue. A wand must have two components! I had a promising solution: using parts of my familiar, luckily tests showed they did not cause painful rejection. Second, the body was adapted for vital functions, not risky magical experiments. Here, Pandora's experiences with self-transformation would come handy.

Naturally, I wouldn't experiment on myself. Soon, it would be time for the Dark Lord's homunculi. By then, I'd get plenty of practice on Malfoy's and get paid for it. I had already began working on modifying the ritual. It was not as risky as it appeared. Tom modified his soul, I merely wanted to modify my body. Muggles healed eye defects with laser surgery, so why shouldn't I try changing my vision to work in the Lovegood mode? Muggles often had surgeries to increase breast size, I was merely going to increase my magical efficiency. If I won't like the risks, I won't do it.

But for now I was examining Nymphadora with every available method. The literature on metamorphmagi was somewhat contradictory...

It did not look like a werewolf. Werewolves had two distinct bodies plus something that addled their brains during the transformation. Here the brain was untouched. She could look like a werewolf but not have their magical properties or infectious bite. It looked nothing like any other magical race or animal. It was as if her transformation changed something, yet something fundamental always remained the same.

It also differed from the animagus transformation. In animagi the flesh changed into an animal, but in this case... It was as though the little girl put on a costume. A costume of her own flesh, filled with very weak magic channels.. How was it possible? They should have burned out! She had bursts of accidental magic and not only survived, but had no traces of injury!

I looked through the girl's mind without waking her. She worked instinctively. No one has taught her, she did not understand the mechanism- it was like interrogating a bird about aerodynamics.

But there was some progress. First, her incredible clumsiness. The body's reflexes -movements, center of gravity- were tied to her genetic appearance and not the one she considered her own. She truly resembled a young Walburga, while her current appearance was a copy of her young mother with a strange hairstyle. Second, the books all agreed on the nature of her gift. Unfortunately, it was not Dark. Fortunately, it was not Light, either. Her gift could be most precisely classified as neutral magic: Life. It belonged to the same category as spells for accelerating development and regeneration, killing or healing by manipulating the body's natural biochemical processes. The motive -growing chimeras or tomatoes- was up to the practitioner.

Not my specialty, to say the least. But unlike Light Magic, it was not impossible to puzzle out. And I was going to do just that.

* * *

 **Arthur Weasley**

Arthur Weasley recently got released from St. Mungo's. The healers did their best: he was completely back to normal, save for a long regiment of blood replenishers. When he saw the bill, he understood why their muggle counterparts worked in masks. Luckily, Professor Dumbledore paid for everything, as this was "an injury sustained in the service of the Order."

He was happy to be back at work. Even though the department was understaffed with only two people, he would not trade it for anything- his job directly involved muggles! Today, they received a report of yet another rabid lawn mover. He and his assistant apparated to the given coordinates.

But before they had a chance to start working, both got hit with the Imperius. His assistant succumbed right away. Arthur tried to resist but received a shield penetrator and a stunner. He woke up under Imperius, mental compulsions and hallucinations. His mind burned with one clear Goal.

They stalled their task until the end of the shift. The Ministry received an owl with the report that the case was difficult and they will not be coming back to the office.

When he returned home in the evening, Molly began nagging him: not enough money, too many exhausting chores...

"Molly dear, the children are all asleep... How about I kiss you... right there?" he asked.

"All right... But we'll finish this conversation later," her tone softened.

Sex went as usual. While Molly was relaxing in bed, Arthur picked up his wand from the nightstand.

"Stupefy," he said.

Molly lost consciousness, and Arthur proceeded to the children's rooms. Once the whole family was stunned, he put them into a newly purchased but well-used muggle car and drove, mixing up the clutch and brake pedals. It took him thirty minutes to cross a mile, but he at last made it past all the defensive charms. Five figures in masks were already waiting. He took a package back to his house, returned and was stunned. The Weasley family and their car vanished.

One hour later, the DMLE received an anonymous tip. They checked it as per protocol. The Weasleys' house was found to contain Dark artifacts, Sirius Black's belongings and letters addressed to Sirius Black! Everything pointed to Arthur Weasley collaborating with Black on charming muggle items, possibly with banned magic. And while Albus Dumbledore was using garden gnomes as witnesses to argue that Arthur was under Imperius, Voldemort was debating what to do with all the newly acquired Weasleys...

* * *

Arthur received a set of strong mental influences. He now believed that the Order of the Phoenix had won, the ban on charming muggle items had been lifted, and he was happily working on production of flying cars and bicycles. In reality, he was helping Rookwood's research team charm a tank stolen from Iraq.

I still did not know what to do with Molly Weasley and her six children. Riddle's memories said kill everyone. Or try turning them into Obscurials by torturing and forcing them to repress their magic under accelerated time flow. But the Weasleys were pureblood... It would be a boon if everyone thought that all purebloods served me... If society has already branded you a Death Eater, would it not be easier to give up and accept the real Mark? The two oldest boys were aged twelve and ten. As far as I remembered, the Ottomans recruited their slave warriors between eight and sixteen. Not all was lost for the young Weasleys. Time to begin a grand pedagogical experiment.

* * *

 **Charles Nott**

Charles Nott was startled awake in the middle of the night by the Dark Lord breaking into his home. He expected to hear news of widespread Auror raids, but it turned out the Lord only brought him prisoners and ordered to preserve magical blood. And disapparated, leaving behind Molly Prewett with her six children!

What now? This was the first time he truly understood the Lord: killing was much simpler. These were Weasleys, blood traitors who denounced their heritage! They had a blood feud with the Malfoys... Perhaps sell their framed heads to Malfoy in the old tradition?

But he did not kill them. After examining the ones who were old enough to speak with Veritaserum and legilimency, he fed them his blood to invoke hallucinations. The mother and the father (what did the Lord do with him, anyway? Killed?) would put on a show: "we have always supported the Dark Lord to provide you a better future." The two school-aged boys can be sent to study abroad under falsified documents, on full scholarships. One liked dragons and the other ancient artifacts? Find them appropriate schools. And the little ones can live with a well-bred nanny somewhere in Iceland, under Fidelius. This should do for now. He'd think of a better solution later.

* * *

 **Lucy Rogers, a recent graduate of the accelerated Auror program**

In spite of her parents' protests, Lucy chose a dangerous profession: defending British magical citizens. But owing to the incipient civil war, she only received three years of training. Now she and her two colleagues were investigating the latest string of muggle disappearances.

The muggle police had already done the brunt of the work and discovered that all of the victims disappeared near the same abandoned warehouse. The two policemen who went to search the site never returned. The police raised an alarm and sent in special forces, who found no traces of the missing people. The Ministry of Magic interfered. They soothed the muggles' worries and sent Lucy's team to investigate. A thorough search of the warehouse revealed a crooked portal circle disguised as muggle graffiti. The construct was basic: stand in the circle and fuel it with energy to be transported to the target location.

They did not attempt to use it, of course. It would be all too easy to end up at the bottom of the ocean or inside a trap. They called for backup. The full-fledged Aurors quickly examined the ugly drawing surrounded by empty bottles of firewhisky and determined its exit coordinares. One squad went to the marked location, one stayed in reserve.

Soon, they received a signal requesting backup with a single word of explanation: Acromantulas!

Acromantulas fought for You-Know-Who and claimed many lives in the last battle. Surely finding their nest couldn't be this simple? The new orders came down almost instantly: all available units to provide assistance. Alastor Moody himself would soon be there with his elite squads.

They apparated to the given coordinates. Lucy expected an anti-apparition ward, multi-tiered defenses, dozens of Dark wizards, or maybe even, god forbid, You-Know-Who. However, the scene that greeted them was at once disappointing and relieving: a forest, swathes of spiderweb, live muggles wrapped in cocoons, more dead half-eaten muggles nearby. There were less than ten acromantulas, all of them already torn to pieces. After fighting the magically resistant acromantulas at Crouch's house, all Aurors received permission to attack them with Dark spells that would normally result in at least a suspension. These spiders must have not been nearly as protected and got annihilated.

Lucy was a Gryffindor, so she couldn't help but recognize the shreds of the fur coat and pink umbrella on the ground. Did these monsters eat Hagrid too?

The Auror forces continued pouring in like endless rain. Moody came, with Albus Dumbledore right on his heels. Professor Dumbledore's shining shields were painful to watch with magical sight. And that was considering her low sensitivity!

Moody was giving out orders, screaming something about constant vigilance and the need to quickly set up a perimeter because You-Know-Who was about to ambush them at any moment. But the battle was already over. She and almost everyone else got sent home.

After work, she went to a muggle cafe to meet Simmons, her boyfriend from another squad of accelerated program graduates. They returned to her place. After an evening of romance, the conversation drifted back towards work.

"I got there with the second wave. The first ran into the spiders and called for backup. There wasn't that many spiders, and Arania Exumae injured them just fine. But there was a lot of us, and most went into some kind of frenzy. One apparently saw his partner die at Crouch's, so he was killing off the already stunned spiders. He's now facing an internal investigation. But you know the strangest thing? There was this enormous man running around yelling "don't hurt my babies!" Stunners bounced right off him! He tried zapping us with electrical shocks from a pink umbrella, but blasting curses eventually took him out."

"It was Hagrid!"

"Yes, that's what the other Hogwarts grads said too. There's going to be an inquiry."

A few days later, journalists caught on to this story and published the results of their own investigation. Albus Dumbledore's official statement claimed that Hagrid was killed by the Death Eaters and raised as zombie obedient to their will. However, the newspapers cited trustworthy sources that Hagrid was a half-giant, and they were all aggressive as a rule. The journalists uncovered his frequent contacts with black market suppliers and experiments in chimeroligy. He enthused to a Greek cerberus dealer about how amazing it would be to cross a firecrab with a manticore! Was he sick in the head? Has he ever seen a manticore?! They were as bad as chimeras!

Hagrid was also expelled from Hogwarts for possession of a dangerous animal that killed a student. And that animal was... a male acromantula. The investigators found memories of the black market dealers who later sold him a female. Many centaurs, werewolves and ingredient collectors testified that there used to be an acromantula colony next to Hogwarts. In other words, Hagrid personally raised the acromantula colony that joined You-Know-Who! And back then, he was definitely not a zombie! Hagrid, an uneducated half-giant with a broken wand, somehow did all that without Dumbledore noticing or doing anything to stop him!

No, Hagrid was not like that, he wouldn't hurt a fly... But then she remembered seeing Hagrid play with thestrals. Beasts classified XXXX...

* * *

 **Max Fry, an investigator for the DMLE major crimes division**

Max has never been a soldier. His greatest weapon was his mind. And for the past few months he has been working a case that made him wake up at night screaming from nightmares.

Sadly, England always had a thriving black market. But it was one thing to sell dragon blood banned literally yesterday (he now had to find a new toothpaste), and quite another to trade human parts. Unlucky muggles and an occasional wizard would disappear, their bodies disassembled into potion and ritual ingredients. It used to be a rare occurrence, but the civil war made Dark wizards completely brazen. More and more people vanished, some later found in pieces. After these cases, he began seeing a muggle therapist.

But recently, the enemy made a small, barely perceptible mistake that gave him a promising lead. They found an abandoned set of cauldrons with distinct traces of Dark potions. All of the cauldrons were stolen. They were able to determine who stole them: Mundungus Fletcher. Maybe he would lead them to the brewers?

Mundungus Fletcher had quite a record: stealing alcohol, buying and selling stolen property, selling doxy eggs without a license, even an attempted robbery where he pretended to be an inferus. The latter guaranteed prison time, but Dumbledore himself pulled the strings for him. Multiple witnesses reported Fletcher bragged about being a member of the Order of the Phoenix. Max decided to act. A request to search the suspect's house would have surely been stuck down, so he got a warrant for the bar the man was known to frequent.

When the suspect arrived, they began the operation. The officials were filling out papers and writing citations. No one but Fletcher resisted. He yelled insults at the Aurors, demanding to be released because he had "friends in high places." Max was very tempted to ask him just how high but acted smarter. He arrested Fletcher for obstructing the search. With some flexible use of law and professional connections, he obtained a permission to test the suspect with legilimency and Veritaserum.

The results were impressive. Skillfully applied vows and mental blocks proved Fletcher was indeed a member of the Order of the Phoenix. What he did for the Order was unknown, but they deciphered his other activities. A squad sent to his home found six live muggles and one wizard in various stages of disassemblement, along with multiple fragments of other bodies. The evidence led them to several clients and enforcers who were guilty beyond the shadow of a doubt. Some of them confirmed they regularly worked with Fletcher.

Most disgusting of all, Fletcher screamed that it was all for the greater good, that he had to earn the trust of Dark wizards to get access to the big fish and fight You-Know-Who. He demanded to be released because he was just following orders!

Max's thoughts were racing. Dumbledore couldn't keep an eye on his own organization? He wanted to believe it, and the case of Sirius Black proved it. But what if Fletcher's words were not self-deception but the truth? They heard some very murky rumors about Severus Snape. The man has never been caught but was often seen at places dealing in questionable potions and ingredients. The DMLE wanted to put him under surveillance but reconsidered after pressure from Dumbledore. And with Robert Abrogast, everything was crystal clear: a known Dark wizard, arrested for triple murder with Fiendfyre, a former mercenary leader. He became the Hogwarts groundskeeper after two people came to his defense: Dumbledore and recently accused of Dark Magic use Barty Crouch... But unlike Fletcher, none of them have been suspected of killing civilians!

Max had helped prosecute many of his colleagues for abuse of authority, but now he could not act any differently. He could not let this one get away. First, he held back his report. Then cast a delayed Obliviate on himself, a special spell on Fletcher, and enough mundane charms like levitation and paper sewing to circumvent Priori Incantatem. And then... who could have expected Fletcher to attempt an escape? During his dash for freedom, Fletcher got hit with a stunner that must have worked incorrectly and stopped his heart. In the pandemonium, no one helped him in time... The mediwizards confirmed accidental death.

Max returned home, checked his wards, downed a glass of whiskey and went to bed. He'd have to brew another potion as a redundant precaution later...

He woke up chained to a courtroom chair. He had put plenty of people here himself... Attempting to escape magical shackles with empty reserve when your wandless skills stopped at Protego and Stupefy... Useless. And rattling the chains was stupid.

He faced the full Wizengamot presided by Dumbledore.

"Maximillian Fry, you are accused of abuse of official position, gross professional misconduct, vigilantism, murder, attempt to interfere with an official investigation..." a secretary read his long list of offenses. "...Your guilt has been determined via legilimency. The memory erasing spell you applied to yourself will now be removed, and you will be given Veritaserum."

As he was answering questions under Veritaserum, Max marveled at their expediency. He thought he would have time to cover his tracks, but the search-arrest-investigation (they even found a skilled legiliment!) took less than a day. If only they always worked this fast!

Dumbledore was rambling on about how Max has been manipulated by Voldemort. How Fletcher recently deserted the Order and was under Imperius. How all the evidence of Fletcher's guilt was fabricated by someone who impersonated him under polyjuice. Sure, sure. By virtue of his position, Max knew some things about the Order of the Phoenix. Sirius Black was an accidental traitor. Lupin was framed. Hagrid was framed during his third year of Hogwarts, then framed posthumously. Now Fletcher was framed too. The former DMLE Head turned out to be a traitor. The previous Dark Lord was Dumbledore's friend, his wand taken as a trophy... Did Mundungus steal under Impreius as well? Or under Confundus? Maybe those rumors about Dumbledore were not so ludicrous after all?

Max recognized his defense attorney - a very expensive bastard. Who could have helped him this much? A public defender would usually advise to accept a plea deal, but this one pushed a convoluted version of events: the defendant was under Imperius, his wand stolen through an unidentified house elf. When it was shattered, the attorney successfully argued mitigating circumstances for every offense. Max's many years of distinguished service and state awards brought his sentence further down to only ten years of Azkaban. A strong occlument could survive ten years, but he wasn't too sure of himself. Although... If the Dementors were gone, he had a chance to see freedom again...

"You have the right to a final statement," they informed him.

What was there left to say except the obvious?

"There's a lot I wish to say," he tried to keep his voice steady. "About the unfortunate coincidences that seem to plague the Order of the Phoenix. Sirius Black's betrayal. Remus Lupin's betrayal. Rubeus Hagrid was framed. He must have spent the last forty years breeding acromantulas because he was under Condundus, which does not work on giants. It is merely a coincidence that the Death Eaters use dragon blood by Albus Dumbledore's methods, while the Order and the Aurors go into battle without such protections. Now Mundungus Fletcher was framed as well. And I don't even need to mention that the Hogwarts groundskeeper is a well-known Dark wizard. Or that the Hogwarts Potions Professor is a master who chose to teach children boil cure potions over pursuing a career in research or selling lucrative potions. Personally, I get the impression that the entire Order of the Phoenix is under You-Know-Who's Imperius. But I want to add something on my own behalf. I am seventy years old. I lived through the time of Grindelwald, through the war that took my father's life. And you, honorable Albus Dumbledore, were nowhere to be seen in Poland in 1939. As my father used to say, Albus Dumbledore is a real cocksucker," he had to speak fast before someone shut him up. But a silencing charm hit him all too quickly, leaving him to open his mouth with no sound like a fish underwater. Still, some of the people gathered here must know how to read lips... They would share their memories with others.

"I always thought he was prejudiced against your sexual orientation. But now I see it: you are just an all-around cocksucker," he finished moving his lips with a sense of fulfilled duty.

They were quick to declare that the offender must have been in a state of shock and issued him a warning for insulting Chief Warlock. Half an hour later, Max was already inside the cold, damp walls of Azkaban. The cell was a tiny stone closet. He missed the dinner but knew better than hope for decent meals. Azkaban walls leeched magic, leaving him as powerless as a muggle. Sullen guards made their rounds once an hour. But there were no Dementors, not a single one. And this meant he might survive...

* * *

I returned from my pensieve. What an interesting court session Albus had... Now it was time to tend to my own business: go to the Lestranges' ritual hall number one and do the last check of the runic circles my most faithful had finally completed.

Satisfied with the quality of their work, I took out Tom Riddle's diary. Let's see what Pandora says about it, then do a complete scan...


	38. The Dark Lord and Horcruxes

I was looking at Riddle's "horcruxes" that radiated something distinctly Dark and thinking. Today, Pandora Lovegood presented me with a puzzle. She saw the horcruxes exactly as they appeared to the naked eye: as mundane objects. Her view disappointed me, but it was an occasion to study a new way of concealing magical traces.

Did they hide themselves consciously or was it their inherent quality? I found several methods of concealment from "astral sight," but this was clearly different...

I was fully prepared to conduct the identification ritual with the "horcruxes." The Lestranges have already done most of the work over the past five months, creating an incredibly complicated runic construct. The ovservers -Pandora under Imperius and a caged Dementor- were ready. Time to get to work.

The diary went into the center, I poured my blood and magic into the first runic chain... The symbols on the outer edge lit up, and the glow spread towards the horcrux in a spiral. It reflected from the diary and receded following the same path in reverse.

The results immediately seared into a nearby stack of parchment. Rows of numbers, rune combinations, odd graphs, some of them resembling trees or strange insects... I dearly wished it could simply describe the object in words. Instead, I got forty pages of raw data. And showing such sensitive information to anyone was a terrible idea. Let's see... Charge of the magical field, energy rotation and flow, divergence, fluctuations...

In a few hours, I more or less deciphered what it said. Many parameters such as durability and defensive abilities were astronomically high, just as horcruxes should have according to _Secrets of the Darkest Art_. Some standard functions predictably showed nonsense: it was no better than measuring microbes with a ruler.

I've been very concerned with whether or not these objects contained a soul. I didn't want to deal with a resurrected, angry Tom Riddle.

Wizards barely surpassed muggles in soul diagnostics. The Verser-Miller diagram of edibility to Dementors showed partial match. I couldn't think of any better way to test for similarity to a normal human soul. If this were to be believed, the diary contained half a soul... Riddle's soul... In its place, I would have tried to possess the nearest body, my current one. But it made no attempts. Was it lulling me into lowering my guard?

I consulted another table for sentience of the object. The results were strange: no more intelligent than a doxy. But _Secrets of the Darkest Art_ claimed a horcrux received a copy of its creator's mind... My first thought was that the diary was trying to fool me. It readily followed orders but did not contact me or show any signs of sentience. I decided to test the rest.

The ring showed complete blanks or infinity for magical qualities, but that could be attributed to the Resurrection Stone. It had half of the diary's soul value – quarter of a full Dementor meal. The line of sentience again ran close to zero, matching the diary.

I used the ritual on the fourth horcrux, the Hufflepuff Cup. The third was Slytherin's locket, and I didn't have it... The cup's resilience matched an ordinary horcrux. It had some additional qualities from the object itself, something related to potions. One sixteenth of a human soul, the same near-zero sentience.

My mind ran wild. For Tom, horcruxes were a recipe of immortality. He saw himself a superhuman, an immortal being residing in multiple bodies simultaneously, bodies that were perfect magical treasures. He split his soul in half five times, then at the moment he came for the Potters, he had one thirty-second left... it was certainly better than zero, but not by much...

If I had any lingering doubts about creating horcruxes, they all evaporated. A piece of the soul in a vessel could be destroyed. Then where would it leave me? With a scrap? If only it was possible to cut off a bit and have the soul regenerate... But no, it meant living with that scrap for all eternity... Therefore, however loudly the ideas for horcruxes may pound on my mind -the Time-Tuner, the Mirror of Erised, Nagini, a part of a Mars rover- I would now banish these thoughts more successfully. The soul wasn't hair, it would not regrow.

Second question: why were these pieces not sentient? Did they have potential to develop it? Or were they lying to me? Rookwood would have been useful here... Maybe steal that artifact he used to identify the Obscurial? I should earnestly consider a raid on the Department of Mysteries to loot everything...

The thirty-sixth page had a graph shaped similar to a family tree. In theory, it could be used to determine the relationship between objects. For instance, untreated body parts maintained a connection to the main body and could be used to channel a curse. Each horcrux must have an incredibly strong connection to the creator. How strange that Tom never felt Regulus moving the locket... Either he had too many horcruxes or Regulus came too prepared.

So, there was a connection between me and the horcruxes. It very much resembled the connection I had with Nagini. A partial familiar, partial horcruxes... The connection existed, but it was rendered useless. These objects would not save me from death... How strange... Horcruxes that were not truly horcruxes, a familiar that wasn't a familiar, a student who wasn't a student..

I made Nagini an ordinary familiar by giving her a new body, and she was none the wiser. As a side effect, I found it slightly easier to apparate, use fire-based magic and, for some reason, work with poisons. I could also summon her at any moment and perceive the world through her senses.

Would the same work on the horcruxes? And how dangerous would it be? I didn't want to return pieces of Riddle to life! Though in theory, I could negotiate with his horcruxes... Especially if I had part of his soul in me. I did not feel it, but that was not indicative of anything.

Clearly, the horcruxes still contained parts of his soul. Then what happened to the part that resided in the body? Horcruxes acted as immortality anchors, they must hold the soul from moving on.

Tom Riddle's soul, where did it go? My further actions hinged on the answer. If I had a soul parasite, it should be destroyed or caged. If an undead nearly-ghost Tom Riddle was still roaming somewhere, he must be found and banished, or imprisoned in a spirit cage if he truly was immortal. If the horcruxes failed due to some unforeseen event -Jupiter reflected in Callisto or whatnot- and he was fully gone, then everything was fine. If his soul got absorbed into mine and served me along with his magic, I had no reason to worry, only keep my temper in check. The funniest option would be if we swapped places, and he was stuck in a muggle world with no magic...

Guessing could go on indefinitely, feelings could lie. I better check something... Adding another rune-covered rug gave me a slightly different ritual to test myself. New ritual, new cut. The runes lit up, the rug glowed especially brightly and turned into dust. No matter, the ritual finished properly. It was similar to how I scanned Harry, Neville and Lily, only this focused on the soul rather than magic.

More graphs. Human intelligence, a familiar bond. Now this was curious: a faint connection to the "horcruxes." How to interpret it... It felt like a city after a blitz: the railways remained but no longer had train stations... Or phone lines existing without receivers or operators...

And the most interesting part: edibility to Dementors... An exact match to the reference book value for a human! I had a perfectly ordinary soul. On one hand, it was great news: no problems with a tenant. On the other, having more than one soul could open up so many possibilities! For example, Avada Kedavra and other "soul-wrenching" spells may not have affected me properly!

Finally, the most crucial question: how much could I trust everything I just measured? How trustworthy was _Secrets of the Darkest Art_?

Only a small part of _The Darkest Art_ had any combat applications. It was a book about modifying the nature of living beings, homunculi, possession, manipulating life energies... It could be renamed to _Essence Alterations_ or _101 Ways not to Die from Old Age_ without changing a single letter of its contents. How to improve or mutilate yourself to live forever... _Secrets of the Darkest Art_ listed many options.

There was parasitic immortality: beings capable of renewing their bodies at the cost of constant "fuel" in the form others' lives. They were not fully immortal but "lived forever" as long as they had the correct material on hand. Vampires did it successfully... Though they too occasionally got killed... And had limited magic...

One could become undead or a non-living being, for example by possessing a stone golem. Their nature made them impervious to anything that caused biological death. No thanks, I wouldn't take it for free.

It was possible to make oneself impervious to the flow of time, staying in the same immutable body. However, this type of immortality offered no protection from unnatural death. As I understood, the Philosopher's Stone and its counterparts fell into this category. Too bad there were no recipes. I had questions for Flamel. Was his stone one of the concentrated sacrificial energy artifacts the book described? Or his own original creation? Or was he the luckiest man in the world who found a strange meteorite?

There was a slew of options for strengthening the body... Immortality without regeneration: not dying until the body is completely destroyed. A Philosopher's Stone integrated into the body? None of that suited me: it wouldn't save me from Fiendfyre, killing curses or a high dose of Dark Magic. And I was already highly unlikely to die from a Reducto or charmed steel.

Conversely, immortality through regeneration: rapidly healing injuries until a certain limit is reached. The problem got solved with a single Avada... And I really did not want to turn into a semblance of a giant octopus. The fans of this method probably begot the first trolls...

And here was the most promising one, immortality through a connection: a wizard cannot be truly killed until the anchor object is destroyed. It could be an artifact, an animal, another human... One type was a phylactery that housed the entire soul, where the creator dies with its destruction but the soul remains unharmed. The alternative was a horcrux, whose destruction also destroys the part of the soul within. Tom chose horcruxes because it was possible to make more than one. As for the risks... Just hide them better! Great job, now Slytherin's locket was who knows where if it survived at all.

Foolish wizards, why call a spade a spade? They should learn the art of sanctimony from muggles. Replace murder with the final solution, war with peace enforcement, sex with love, _Secrets of the Darkest Art_ with _Recipes of Longevity._

On one hand, _Secrets of the Darkest Art_ was trustworthy. The book predated the Ministry propaganda, and everything I tested from it worked. But people had a tendency to make mistakes, peddle their delusions, exaggerate and lie. I didn't discount the possibility that someone could write a book, forgetting or even purposefully distorting some key features and safety measures, for instance necroenergy. And gloat, watching idiots lose their minds. Writing a book would ensure they have company sitting between life and death with a mutilated soul for eternity... And if one of their fans was stupid enough to divide his soul into more than two pieces, they would get great moral satisfaction from seeing someone even worse off and bullying him... For the rest of eternity.

I was thinking. The Mirror of Erised showed me my past life for a reason. Here, I lived in constant fear. Not the fear of death Tom had. Fear that the powers I used out of greed would crush me like an insect and march on with no one in control. Fear of suffering a fate worse than the Dementor's kiss. I successfully banished it from my mind but still continued to get intrusive thoughts: maybe I should stop?

But I've already gone too far. I set an insane rhythm, and the moment I slow down, I would be swept away by an avalanche. Whatever form it may take -Albus Dumbledore, Aurors, dissatisfied Death Eaters- would make no difference to my dead body.

So, time to quit philosophizing and get back to work.

I wanted to experimentally determine the nature of a horcrux: create an ordinary one, scan it, compare it to rest and to the data I remembered. Of course, I was not going to create my own. I needed a volunteer.

Thoughts first went towards the Death Eaters. Sadly, no. Bellatrix and the Lestranges were a plain pity – stupid to waste my most faithful on risky experiments. Rosier or someone dissatisfied with the latest shifts of political course? Immortal opposition, just what I needed! And frankly, none of them were idiots, even if some, like Goyle, expertly pretended. They could gleam something from the ritual. And if not, dig deeper...

Lily? A bad idea all around. I didn't know how a horcrux would interact with her vow. If she died, would it reset or carry over to the new body? Or would breaking the vow leave her forever writhing, unable to die? And if everything were to go smoothly, I couldn't bear the thought of dealing with more than one Lily! Quickly destroy the horcrux and the base after the experiment? Snape needed her, I needed Snape while Albus still lived... And afterwards, a potions master would be useful. And Lily herself made a good cover.

I foresaw many issues but was as always forced to experiment on prisoners. Off to the cells with "broken in" material for a surface scan, then.

The future creator of a horcrux turned out to be a plain-featured forty-something witch. She was the most powerful of the batch, has never heard of occlumency and readily submitted to the Imperius. A chat with Bellatrix put her in the proper mood. For her victim I chose a muggle male somewhat resembling Fletcher. The vessel would be the most nondescript and, as I verified with a house elf, absolutely mundane teacup from the Lestranges' house.

The problems started as soon as I ordered her to draw the runes. She knew no runes, especially not these... I drew her a glowing example in the air. She copied them painfully slowly and so crookedly that they were unlikely to work... The Imperius could force a human to do positively anything, but ordering someone to do a split without an adequate ability would only lead to torn ligaments. In my case, I received a pattern of splotches. Good thing this ritual didn't call for blood runes.

After thinking a bit, I transfigured her a couple hundred stencils and started to hand them to her one by one. She drew... What can I say... I should probably apologize to Lily. She may be a dimwit, but compared to this woman she was a regular Morgana! How, just how was it even possible to muck up drawing runes by hand with a stencil on a perfectly smooth surface?! In quiet, peaceful conditions? Erase and start over...

Once I fed her potions for alertness, acceleration, attention and improved reaction, things have picked up. She filled in several square meters in half an hour, even with my interruptions to repair the stencils and erase botched runes. After twelve attempts and six hours, she finally produced satisfying results. I gave her a blood replenisher and had her coat the cup with her blood.

She stood in one circle, the cup went into the second and the muggle into the third. At my signal, she killed the muggle with a cutting charm, severing his head on the second try... And nothing happened! Neither I nor Pandora saw anything. My scanning charms showed nothing. I levitated the cup to study it like I did my "horcruxes." It was just a cup, the ritual didn't work!

Possible explanations? The woman was not 'depraved' enough, had too little necroenergy? Must be aware of her actions? Being under direct control did not count? We'll fix it!

I brought in another muggle, removed the Imperius and explained to the woman what was required of her. She refused. I called in a Dementor and threatened her with the kiss: "either part of your soul remains with you or you lose it all." She conceded.

I ordered her to torture the man with the Cruciatus. She protested again. I put her through a couple of my own torture spells, training her by the associative method and deflecting clumsy attempts at attacking me. Half an hour later she still hasn't learned the Cruciatus, so I had her repeatedly cast the Imperius on the muggle. She needed to accumulate necroenergy one way or another.

In a little while, I took away her wand and ordered to repeat the ritual. She botched it again...

Steadying myself with a deep breath, I recalled Riddle's modified ritual that he used to tear his soul for the third time. The soul was a durable thing, so he had added some elements to increase the runic area and strength of the impact. I curbed another attempt to attack me and smudge the runes, then two suicide attempts. It was simple: the target could only cast verbally, and I was reading her mind.

After some more curses and a twenty minute session with the Dementor, she agreed to try again. Tom's memories did not exaggerate after all: torture broke anyone, at some point people were willing to become killers themselves.

She stood in a circle, finished chanting the spell, and began throwing Diffindos at the tied muggle. When he died, something happened... The woman fell, started squirming and trying to claw out her own eyes, which I stopped. Strange, this did not happen to Tom until his third horcrux...

I watched her through my own eyes, Pandora's sight and the senses of the Dementor restrained in an ashen-gray cage. Normal vision showed a woman writhing on the floor. Magical sight – an unclassifiable churn of energy. The Dementor reported one extra food source, but it immediately disappeared. In Pandora's sight, the woman appeared on the brink of death until something separated from her and got sucked into the cup. The cup radiated something odd for a moment, then expertly masked itself.

Watching the horcrux creation process from different angles was an excellent idea. I felt like a drafter's apprentice. One angle said the object was a circle, the other said it was a rectangle. What was it? A cylinder: circle at the top, rectangle from the side...

I locked the stunned and transfigured test subject in an isolating container and carefully studied her horcrux. It was hiding, pretending to be an ordinary cup. Time to play sapper... This was far better than practicing on Riddle's horcrux. This woman was no match for me in Mind or Dark Magic, and power without skill always lost to skill and power...

An hour and a half later, when I finally wiggled under the horcrux's defenses and saw it without concealment, I felt a mental attack. A strong one, but I blocked it. How strange... In life, the woman knew nothing, but her horcrux attacked respectably well. Did horcruxes have inherent skills?

The cup's side shifted to form a three-dimensional face. It looked as if someone covered their face with a thin, tight cloth.

"Let's make a deal?" it spoke in a colder, higher tone of the woman's voice.

"Certainly. Be useful, don't cause any trouble, and you will continue existing," I answered. No, I would definitely never make a deal with a horcrux.

First, I subjected the cup to the full identification ritual. Resilient, emitting Dark Magic, half a soul, human level of intelligence – everything a horcrux should be, unlike Tom's legacy...

The new horcrux went into an isolating container, and I focused on the woman. She now became decent at Dark spells. The Cruciatus she tried to hit me with came out flawlessly. Ten more hours of testing determined her "necroenergy" clearance speed dropped to zero... Must be the incomplete soul.

I took more pepperup (I've been at this for two straight days) and continued.

Testing the owner-horcrux system showed they didn't share a constant mental link but could call upon each other and establish contact, almost like a telephone. In two more hours, I drew a quality spirit trap to test what would happen to her after losing the body. Instincts demanded to Avada her. It was relatively safe: if the killing curse separated the whole soul, it would certainly manage a half. But the accursed necroenergy... Break her neck? I settled on transfiguring a wolf from dust to rip out the throat.

When she died, her body let out opaque gray smoke that gathered into a ghostly figure. It was unable to leave the trap or use magic beyond weak telekinesis. All wrong for a ghost... It could possess animals and people but was easy to force out with a single banishment spell. It refused to die from blood banishment or Fiendfyre, but both clearly hurt it. I managed to measure only a few parameters by scanning the possessed human and the disembodied spirit itself... If only I had my own Department of Mysteries...

Well, the experiment was over, time to wash out the test tubes.

I securely locked the horcrux in place, surrounded myself with additional shields and transfigured walls, and watched Imperio'd prisoners try to defeat the horcrux through Nagini's eyes. All of the prisoners died...

First, they tried standard spells. Every one hit the mark but had no effect on the horcrux. The cup showed no signs of pain and put up a decent fight. One of its opponents fell with a cut throat, another got hit with a penetrator and a burst of acid, the third got his brains fried.

The Impreio'd tried Unforgiveables. The Cruciatus caused the cup pain, but it looked tolerable. The Imperius had no effect. The killing curse ricocheted- it was, after all, attuned to living beings. The fourth prisoner died. I patted myself on the back for having the foresight to act through others from behind a solid wall. Nagini too caught an Avada and got reborn. It brought the total to four times since her creation...

The fifth Imperio'd dropped dead from boiling blood. Strange, the woman didn't know this curse in life, and I never told her... The horcrux vs. Imperio'd humans match ended 5-0 in favor of the horcrux. Yes, this toy was very dangerous.

I started to work on it personally. Not long ago, I measured the temperature of Fiendfyre. And heating the horcrux to a much higher temperature than Fiendfyre did not destroy it! I again got lost on thought... Several thousand degrees of Fiendfyre destroyed a horcrux but a much higher temperature of mundane fire didn't? How? A nuclear reaction, for instance inside the Sun, burned millions of degrees hotter. Would it destroy a horcrux? My muggle side believed it must. Of course, I never actually tried it...

 _Secrets of the Darkest Art_ demanded a very specific type of impact: Dark Magic or a Dark creature. Have they simply not heard of nuclear reactions back when it was written? I conjured a lick of Fiendfyre, condensed it into a ball the size of a mosquito and sent it at the cup's handle. The horcrux howled in pain as the flame cut the handle in half. The porcelain burned and bled with human blood.

I thought back on my first talk with Edward about the harm of Dark Magic. Was it truly this simple? Most magic affected the physical object. It did nothing to a horcrux because a horcrux was much more than a collection of atoms, it was a manifestation of the soul... Dark Magic, however, harmed objects on the level of energy. It made no difference to an ordinary human, and I could die like one of them despite my magic. Whereas a horcrux's vulnerability was limited to extremely powerful Dark Magic... Or a weapon somehow imbued with basilisk venom... And I knew of only one matching weapon: Gryffindor's sword.

I created more Fiendfyre to engulf the cup. It tried to resist, to put up a barrier, grow legs or roll away, but still burned up with a shrill scream. The moment the horcrux was gone, the woman's gray ghost also disappeared.

So, my further plans. Work with Tom's legacy "horcruxes" the same way I did with the familiar, only much more carefully. Perhaps it would open up some new possibilities.

I pulled out the counterfeit diary I was crafting for Albus. I've spent a lot of time trying to make indistinguishable from a horcrux, applying innumerate defensive charms and not sparing sacrifices. This artifact fully deserved the Dementor's kiss. It was safe to assume Albus would buy it, especially in battle conditions. But there were two "buts."

First, this diary remained vulnerable to ordinary spells, for example a long series of penetrators followed by a regular blasting curse. Or a week-long soak in concentrated, charmed acid. Or being repeatedly heated to several thousand degrees and cooled close to absolute zero. None of that should harm a horcrux, making the fraud very transparent.

Second, I could not create a soul. The diary only imitated sentient behavior. I had a very thorough talk with the creator of _The Invisible Book of Invisibility_ , but even if I supplemented his methods with human sacrifice, the result would not be quite what I needed. I knew of no other way to place a human conscience into an object... Except a phylactery, but Albus would not mistake it for a horcrux.

Sure, when Albus is defending from curses and explosions bombarding him from every direction, he'd have no time for a scan. But what if he figured it out? I didn't know how the old man saw the world, what charms he used. I could not even deceive Lupin without tipping him off! It'd be foolish to hope to trick Albus multiple times with such simple methods. What if he survived the first trap and took the object with him for testing? It would render all the other traps useless and give Albus some very inconvenient ideas. For example, that Voldemort never made any horcruxes: 'Alastor, get him with an Avada, I'll hold him for you.'

But now I had a better plan. Voldemort would set up additional defenses where Tom hid his horcruxes. Voldemort would hide the same objects Tom used. And they would be horcruxes. But not his. And if they scream "I'm not Voldemort's horcrux!" no one would believe them... By the way, what would happen if a Dementor kissed a horcrux? Or its creator? What if it become less intelligent and more obedient? I'd check it later.

So, I'd need to guide at least five prisoners through the horcrux ritual. The objects would be resilient on their own, but I'd add wards and ask "friends" to help... Maybe one of the traps would kill the old man... But not today. I first had to prepare obstacle courses in the inferi cave and the Gaunts' house. Sadly, Gringotts would never let me curse the vault... But I could put anything I wanted there, right? For example, cursed items. And a snake golem I'd make with Rosier's help... I may be far from Albus with his transfiguration tricks, but I won't spare materials and people to animate it. And it would take up nearly all of the space. Was it legal to store a cursed battle golem in a vault? Most likely yes, especially if I made it from precious metals. Some treasure...

How would Albus fight it? Fiendfyre? He'd be inside the vault himself! Phoenixes couldn't apparate inside the bank, and the goblins would not miss a "boom" of this magnitude... If the old man survived, he'd have to fight through them next.

The other horcruxes can be stored in the Malfoys' and the Lestranges' manors. Tweak their source-powered wards, hire squads of mercenaries to "protect family manor from attacks." No one would openly accuse the Malfoys or the Lestranges. Without evidence, the court would drag for years. The Lord would quickly find out about any official investigation and move the horcruxes... But while the horcruxes existed, the Lord remained immortal. Albus would be forced to storm the manors of law-abiding citizens and use extrajudicial force... Even if he survives, two thirds of the country would come to believe in the Order of Death... Who could have guessed: Albus Dumbledore breaks into pureblood homes to steal their heirlooms! Lawful searches? Go right ahead and try... Nearly a third of Wizengamot was mine, they would notify me. And even if they didn't, Albus knew full well he'd have to show a list of confiscated items. "Voldemort's horcrux," what's that? A thing that lets you live forever?! I want one too!

That took care of five horcruxes out of seven. The last two backups would have to be considered very carefully... As soon as I finish the traps and begin leaking information to Albus...

How to ensure my safety working with other people's horcruxes? Their creators must be kept prisoner. Under extremely high security. Tied up, chained, unconscious. In vegetative state. Crippled with Dark Magic and infected with multiple illnesses until they can't use magic, move or think. And just in case, order a Dementor to kiss them. And physically injure their brains with Dark Magic. After multiple Obliviates. I could kill them, of course, but spirits were much harder to contain. And what if Abus had a way to determine whether the creator had a body? The horcruxes themselves won't escape their hiding spots.

So much to do... For example, coax a horcrux creator into experiencing remorse and watch the soul mend back together...

The main problem with Dark Magic was the material not wanting to die and resisting. Killing sparingly would limit the results. Killing liberally would breed many enemies. But what about killing sparingly and using their deaths more efficiently? Not only their bodies but souls as well? As far as I knew, a soul could not be sacrificed. What about a piece of it? Maybe people's horcruxes would prove useful elsewhere?

With these thoughts, I continued cleaning the traces of my work. The Dementor burned in Fiendfyre. I had plenty of Dementors, and they spawned given the right conditions. Not much of a loss. Pandora... You've seen too much. Killing you would be a waste, at least until I finish studying your sight. But even then, you'd make a useful consultant to help me understand what I see. We'll be together forever.

I stunned, transfigured and put her into an isolating container. I really did not appreciate Bellatrix's thoughts at my mention of Pandora. Bellatrix, you are better, how silly of you to be jealous of a pocket scanner! What do I have to do to stop the questions, marry her? One jab of my wand- and she'd be a happy pureblood widow. Or even simpler, set up Rodolphus to break his vow... But it was too obvious, and I almost worked out a way for everyone to stay alive and have the Lestranges even thank me for it.

Again and again I wiped the magic traces in the room. However hard I tried, the hint of something very Dark refused to vanish. Tell the Lestranges to help? No, they were not as skilled as me but still clever enough to understand too much. Edward was a master of blood and runes, Rodolphus had an analytical mindset, Bellatrix grew up a Black, and Rabastan was dying from studying, well on his way to becoming either a hopeless bookworm or a multidisciplinary genius...

I gave up and moved on to measuring necroenergy in myself. This much I had before the experiments, this much after. Subtract the values of all the spells I used... It left zero. Apparently, destroying a horcrux didn't count as murder. Too bad: seven destroyed horcruxes would have caused enough to accuse Albus of Dark Magic use.

There was a knock on the door. The ritual hall looked pristine to the naked eye, empty save for the identification runes. In magical sight, it looked as though it got bombed, then hosted our concentration camp, then used to perform Diana Crouch's healing ritual, then Dumbledore and Grindelwald came here and had their duel. And then there was a witches' Sabbath...

Having added some more concealment charms that did very little to improve the situation, I opened the door. It was Bellatrix. I reflexively put up privacy charms.

"My Lord..." she began, but froze once she saw the inside of the room. "Am I allowed to interrupt?"

"I am already finished. I was performing very powerful Dark Magic that could not be fully concealed. I would like for the Lestranges to cover this room with additional wards. Don't go inside and don't let anyone else in, it may be dangerous. I will be working here again later."

"Yes, my Lord... Master, Sirius Black's and Alecto Carrow's wedding is scheduled to begin in two hours. You said wished to attend."

Hopefully everything will go perfectly smoothly. We kept Black under a killer dose of potions and rituals. Carrow should be in awe... He even had implanted artifacts. If I analyzed his blood, it would be more accurate to speak of concentration of blood in the potions rather than the other way around... We were certain none of it would harm the future child but stored some biomaterial under stasis charms just to be safe. When I said I brewed "Lust's Folly" for Black, Rabastan began steering clear of him...

Bellatrix was going to be the bridesmaid, and I'd fill the role of his best man. I could have changed here but needed to go home to pick up their wedding presents. After all, Sirius was my most faithful servant, a spy who compromised himself to bring me the Potters' heads... He should set a worthy example for their son, once Alecto shares her memories of the Lord himself bestowing Sirius Black with gifts...

"Thank you for reminding me. I will be there soon, don't begin without me," I said and headed for the apparition platform.

* * *

 _I'm sorry for the update confusion! I accidentally deleted a chapter and FFN treats it as an update. Everything is back to normal now. Thank you so much for all your reviews, follows and favorites!_


	39. Sirius's Wedding

Perhaps I should have thrown an opulent wedding, but everything was as simple as possible. Me, the Lestranges, Sirius Black and Alecto Carrow. And one more person...

It was jarring to see an immensely pleased Carrow in purple robe. The woman positively glowed with happiness. She was covered in jewelry, actual jewelry and not some charmed objects. Makeup and dressing up transformed her into a beauty: floor-length robe and high heels gave the illusion of height, corseted waist and other tricks slimmed the figure...

Sirius Black looked accordingly: cheerful and relaxed, shooting adoring, undressing glances at Alecto. He wore a painfully bright lime-green robe, his long hair braided with red ribbons. This outfit wasn't exactly traditional, but Sirius has always been a rebel. It would have looked suspicious if he suddenly decided to scrupulously follow protocol. But if he behaved nearly identically to his real self, everyone would only mildly wonder how these qualities mixed with his loyalty to the Dark Lord.

Black shook hands with Rodolphus, and the two were soon engaged in an animated conversation. Edward watched them from the corner, hiding a smile behind his wine glass. He's done an excellent job. Not even I noticed anything suspicious. The secret included rituals, potions, spells, and artifacts implanted into the body. The most difficult part was making it all work when Black tuned into a dog without killing him. Now, a full scan inside a ritual circle would show nothing but traces of a strange illness. Only an autopsy could reveal Black has long been a puppet. The glassy eyes gave him away, but it was simple to solve with charmed lenses. And to be completely safe, we would not let him out of the house. All their conjugal duties were going to take place here, the manor was large enough...

I wore a dress robe, green to match the color of Avada Kedavra. For the occasion, I even removed all my illusions to look like a mid-thirties man instead of a mutant. Why not? The Lestranges already knew, Black would never tell anyone since didn't even register what he saw, and Alecto would witness an additional proof of my trust in her husband. I finally got an opportunity to use household magic for its intended purpose: styled my hair for the first time in this life. Carrow's surprised face was worth it.

"My Lord, I'm happy you honored us with a visit in your true appearance," said Bellatrix, bowing low.

She looked stunning: tall, good figure, luxurious hair... I never understood Rodolphus. If my wife acted this way, I would have long dragged her to a forced session of legilimency with Veritaserum... Although, the Lord hasn't shown any interest in sex in a very long time, so his apathy was somewhat justified.

"I'm always interested in my followers' lives," I replied.

"My Lord, I don't see any signs of illusions on you," Carrow asked politely, carefully mimicking Bellatrix. Her curiosity must have outweighed the fear of punishment. I haven't tortured any of them without a good reason lately, much less after learning about necroenergy... At this rate, I'd soon start fretting over the right of lobsters to painless death...

"I am happy to see you, Alecto. I don't have any traces of illusions because there are no illusions. This is my real appearance. Only my most faithful are allowed to know this secret. Since Sirius has chosen you, you are now part of the highest circle of trust," I confided. This was a perfect time to play monarchy.

"My Lord... Your trust is a great honor..." Alecto bowed, visibly relieved that she avoided the Lord's wrath at her stupid question.

It felt strange to see fear in her eyes. I've had very little human interaction lately. Material was kept unconscious unless ingredient preparations dictated otherwise. The Lestranges didn't fear me. Snape I could not read. And after I saved Lily from compulsions and monster-Bathilda, then proved I didn't kill her husband, she became much more tolerant. Only killing Peter turned her a little suspicious and and anxious...

"More wine, mistress?" asked a service golem shaped like a house elf.

Maybe I caught Moody's paranoia, but we kept the house elves away from Black. I lost my locket because of a blasted elf! Therefore, the Lestranges made five clay golems that could be broken with a good kick and had no magical abilities. They were the only ones serving us today.

"Yes," my guest answered with infinite disdain, in a voice that could freeze the entire Pacific Ocean. The golem didn't get hit with a torture curse only because it would spill the wine and not feel any pain.

I considered coming to the wedding alone. I couldn't care less about etiquette, I made my own rules. But a number of factors interfered.

First, subtle power plays. They more false information my servants believed, the more it protected my back. Second, I wanted to watch a magical marriage ceremony in Pandora's sight. When I was healing Diana Crouch, I simply concealed her in the corner. But in a place without the same violent clashes of energies, she would be too easy to notice. I went off schedule working with horcruxes and had no time to prepare quality concealment, so I found a simpler solution: told Lily to stay home and polyjuiced Pandora into Elena. Now Elena could escort me without all the troubles of creating illusions for Lily!

Unfortunately, while Tom somewhat knew his way around men's fashion, he knew nothing of women's. After I embarrassed myself burning the Aurors with Fiendfyre in a house robe and started a bloodbath in Diagon in an evening dress, I learned a bit about how women dressed. But judging by the face of Rabastan, who was drinking the most expensive wine and diligently pretending to be a piece of furniture, I again did something wrong. Did I dress her too provocatively? If Pandora were a normal woman under Imperius, I would have simply ordered her to dress as witches usually dressed for formal occasions. But when I tried that, she conjured a dandelion wreath on her head and intended to go barefoot. I was certain I chose the lesser of two evils.

Where did I go wrong? She had the correct robe length, no exposed back, cleavage or legs. I caught Rabastan's eyes... Nonverbal wandless legilimency... A separate dress code for weddings? Earrings from the wrong metal? The color of her ring stone matching the color of my robe was a bold innuendo? Oh for crying out loud! Back to the Time-Turner and studying women's fashion...

"I'm happy your health is returning to normal. I heard you dealt with Peter Pettigrew," Bellatrix addressed Elena-Pandora. Since Pandora was no match for Lily in power, I had to layer her with artifacts and antiscanning charms. As I discovered, it implied distrusting the host.

"The disgusting half-blood showed too little respect when speaking to me and not enough loyalty to the Dark Lord in his thoughts. I slowly roasted him alive like the rat he was. I faithfully serve the Dark Lord, and Alastor Moody will soon die by my hand. Even though my past strength has yet to return, even Rosier recognized my accomplishments in producing homunculi to solve your sister's problem. If the Dark Lord weren't here, I would never bother answering your questions. I don't gossip behind Master's back," said Pandora with rabid fanaticism.

To put it mildly, this was rude. It reminded me of boxers shaking hands before the fight. The Lestranges already knew Elena was working on Malfoy's curse with Rosier, and Carrow had to learn to appreciate high-level intrigue.

Carrow seemed to realize the new weight of the Lord's trust. She linked arms with Black, and they began discussing whom and how they would sacrifice to weaken Malfoy's curse, casually inching away from "Elena."

It was imperceptible without legilimency, but Bellatrix's mood instantly soured. Not from the rudeness but from imagining what the Lord could have been doing with Elena in his handsome appearance. Sensing the changes in his beloved, Rodolphus hurried to console and distract her. It looked like we were going to have a wedding without a fight...

The relationship with Bellatrix would probably have to be rushed. At some point, she was going lose her composure and hit Elena with something, and we'd all be lucky if she chose the Cruciatus. I could forbid her from attacking, but Bellatrix was as clever as she was beautiful. She'd drop a hint, and an eager to please house elf would arrange some tragic accident. Let Nessie out for a walk and leave an apparition-blocking artifact nearby...

After some drinks and exchanges of pleasantries, Black made a fiery speech about how honorable and exciting it was to serve the Dark Lord and how happy he was to be marrying Carrow. Then came the time for the ceremony itself.

Tom didn't know much about wedding rituals, and I always had more important issues on my mind. The easiest option was a civil marriage. A Ministry official, documents, a note in the records book- and the two are legally married. No different from muggles, with all of the same trappings in case of divorce. On this front, the marriage between Sirius Black and Alecto Carrow had been registered in the Brazilian Ministry half an hour ago, under assumed names. Lily married James Potter with the same procedure in England. Technically, wife and children from a civil marriage may be later magically added to the family, but Potter never cared about his heritage or jumping through pureblood hoops. For us, this was unacceptable: the entire purpose was creating a Trojan horse that would let us into the Blacks' home.

I tasked Edward Lestrange with organizing everything, as the head of an old family. The goal of a magical marriage was for one side (usually the bride) to join the other's family. Even if the family source was far away or inaccessible, the ceremony formed a connection that would start working as soon as the they came near. There were hundreds of additional options, such as enhancing health and fertility, repelling certain magical parasites from the couple's home, punishments for infidelity, curses on potential bastard children... We needed none of that and chose the bare basics, yet it still fell within two Ministry bans: blood magic and ritualistics.

Edward launched into a long sermon about "the two loving hearts." His words carried zero magic.

Then came the time for presents. The Lestranges gifted a galore of jewelry, parts of magical animals (nundu fangs and the like) and several rare magical plants.

It was my turn. There should be no mistakes: I specifically researched the rules and symbolism, then consulted with Edward. Three gifts, never purchased, would honor Black as my equal.

"First, a modest Gringotts vault," I said.

I made a one-time transfer of all my drug profits from the last five months. The Carrows... they were not poor, owned a couple of houses. But by Malfoy or Lestrange standards, they didn't have much. Sirius wasn't quite himself, and the goblins would never release family funds into his hands. Then Alecto would have questions: "darling, where is the money?" This way, the Lord paid for the honeymoon. We have to spend it, we don't want to insult the Lord! And after Sirius's death, she'd become the sole guardian of the Black heir.

"Second, allow me to gift you this Horntail egg I earned in a fair fight."

Strictly speaking, Macnair and I needed all the dangerous creature eggs we had for creating a big mean beast to ambush Dumbledore at the inferi cave. But dragon eggs could be bought, even if it was difficult and punishable by prison time. This way, the Lord shared his personal trophies!

"Third, I know of the legendary Black library and would like to gift you a book that will become the star of your collection," I gave them a handcrafted safe with a book in an isolating container. "Be very careful, the book has quite a temper. It constantly tries to kill someone and is very resilient. It is called _The Murderous Book of Murders._ I created it myself," I said, flashing a charming smile.

I had a good chat with the author of _The Invisible Book of Invisibility_. I came over while he was asleep and rifled through his mind several nights in a row. The man was a genius of his field. He achieved a resonance effect: if the shape and the behavior of a book matched its contents, adding a series of his proprietary charms amplified the book's effects manifold! A book on cats, for example, would behave like a live cat: meow, scratch, climb trees, run from dogs...

I tried my hand at these charms to create a convincing copy of the diary horcrux. The book's base was Rosier's lab journal. Some more entrees from me, a series of charms, a couple of tortured prisoners - and within a week, I had a hard to kill, extremely aggressive, nearly uncontrollable object. It was originally meant for Albus, until I found a better solution to forging horcruxes.

"But it has one weakness: if you tell it of the kills you made, it temporarily becomes docile. Inside, it contains descriptions of thousands of creative murder methods. And if you describe a true murder, it will be added to the book."

"Your gift is priceless," said Black with the expression of a boy who found his father's porn cache.

Then Edward took out his wand and conjured something resembling a ball of yarn that wrapped around Alecto and Sirius. Literal bonds of marriage... We all walked around the hall, following the sun's path. After the seventh circle, the bride and groom stood before Edward. They kissed on the lips, knelt facing each other and touched each other's body with their wands, chanting the ritual words. It somewhat resembled the unbreakable vow.

"I, Sirius Black, take Alecto Carrow to be my wedded wife. From this day forward, she is a Black, as are all my children born of her body. May Magic be my witness!"

Sirius had been disowned, but that was his personal problem. As the only remaining male Black, any children he fathers would be Black in name and magic. His children haven't been preemptively disowned, so Walburga would get a grandson.

"I, Alecto Carrow, take Sirius Black to be my wedded husband. From this day forward, I am a Black, as are all my children born of his seed. May Magic be my witness!"

Just like a vow, a marriage bond inserted certain conditional triggers into their individual magic. Maybe I could I develop something based on marriage oaths? A general vow or a scanning charm of some sort?

But back to the ritual, which was nearing conclusion. The bride and the groom each received a glass of wine. They drank half, exchanged glasses, and drank half of the rest. Then they cut each other's wrists with a silver knife and dropped some blood into the remaining wine. Sirius drank the wine with Alecto's blood, Alecto drank the wine with Sirius's.

Next came the interesting part. I watched it in my own magical sight and through Pandora's eyes with legilimency. As soon as Alecto finished her wine, she collapsed and started spasming on the floor. This was the exact stage that once wrecked Bellatrix. We didn't step on the same rake twice: Edward and Rodolphus personally calculated their compatibility. After his wife's tragedy, Rodolphus studied the subject to understand what went wrong...

Carrow twitched on the floor, silenced and held in place by Edward's telekinesis, with Black kneeling next to her and whispering words of encouragement. This lasted nearly thirty seconds. The pain may not have reached the level of Cruciatus, but it certainly surpassed childbirth.

Since the ceremony took place indoors, I simply laid down a rug with runes one floor above. I calculated everything – it shouldn't interfere with the ritual, only aid my perception. Carrow connection to her family source was withering and dissolving. The moment it completely disappeared, a new one stated to form. She would have much worsened replenishment until she visits the Black's home. Everything went without a hitch, just as we planned.

In Pandora's eyes, the picture looked startlingly different. It was as if dozens of invisible kittens were playing with yarn and tissue paper, all of it passing through Carrow's body without harming her. I tried to hold the image in my head, but it slipped away. I'd review it in the pensieve at night. "Astral sight" was not a panacea, merely a different spectrum.

This gave me a lot of ideas. Was it possible to attach several channels at once? How would it affect the "necroenegy" clearance? In principle, if connection to one place of power tripled it, several would solve all my problems. Doubtful it'd be this simple- no one has ever drawn from more than one... With Alecto, everything was clear: one channel replaced by another. But what if she didn't begin with the Carrow family connection? Would she have died from pain in the process? Or still form a new one? Could I shake up my own energy system the same way? And how to test it? Have Barty marry a muggleborn?

"How are you feeling, love?" asked Sirius with infinite tenderness and care, helping Alecto up from the floor.

"I'm all right," she rasped.

Wizarding traditions were baffling. Common sense suggested Alecto take a day off to rest. But the tradition demanded they run to fulfill their bedroom duties. I might have found the cause behind the purebloods' procreation issues: a conditional reflex connecting sex to pain...

"Congratulations on the successful ceremony," I said.

Sirius Black carried his hurt wife to the nearest bedroom. He had put the key and papers for the Gringotts vault into his pocket, and a clay golem shuffled behind them with the book and the egg in metal boxes.

Officially, out part here was done. But I, Elena and Edward followed the newlyweds to maintain control over Sirius. We entered a room with a floor drawing that gradually transformed into a mirror. It showed the reflection of Sirius and Alecto having sex.

Not making love, precisely sex. The potions made Sirius Black passionate with absolutely no brakes. Alecto could be most flatteringly described as sluggish, though I'd just call her a log. I was surprised she was even conscious.

This compulsion to have sex right after a pain shock made no sense. I would have blamed misogyny, but witches and wizards were equal. And always have been. Magical power knew no gender, the killing curse didn't discriminate, and the number of methods to prevent unwanted pregnancy approached infinity. In a different world, Sirius could have joined the Carrow family, and the ceremony would remain the same.

They demonstrated nothing interesting in bed. I was getting tired of watching porn: Crouch Jr. regularly turned in his reports and memories of researching "the power of love." So far, the only results were several new methods of healing minor illnesses and repelling weak magical parasites.

Albus often spoke of the power of love. I assumed that High Light Magic required it. But I only ever had one love: the love of life. If sex bore any connection to love, it may be possible to approach Light Magic through sex. Barty would continue trying, good luck to him... Though Albus probably didn't mean sex...

"My Lord, breeding blood traitors is not something I ever imagined myself doing in my sixties," Edward said. "Setting up Black's dates, directly controlling him... I feel dirty. I really wish I didn't have to watch them, but since we fed Black Lust's Folly, and I recently removed the inhibitor... If we left them to their own devices, Alecto would probably end up with a massive bleeding, postponing her pregnancy and interfering with our plans. I must keep watching to stop Sirius in time. And I can't only do it once because then Alecto would wonder why her husband cooled off! I have to endure this on a regular basis as long as Black lives!"

Complaining was out of character for Edward, but no one else had full access to the manor's defenses and could do this job properly.

"I thought of marrying Alecto after Black's death," he continued. "We'd divide the children evenly: half to the Blacks, half to the Lestranges. But now, after seeing this... I can't bed a woman who slept with a blood traitor..."

In my opinion, they all took their bigotry far too seriously. She slept with Sirius, so what? I saw no difference in her before and after... From Edward's point of view, consorting with a blood traitor made her dirty by association. But in Alecto's eyes, Sirius Black was the Lord's most faithful servant who pretended to be a blood traitor so impeccably that even his own mother disowned him. He didn't hesitate to lay down his life and magic for the Dark Lord! Marrying such a man was anything but shameful.

"Truly revolting, my Lord," Elena-Pandora chimed in as I ordered. "After today, I don't want to hear another word about Black, the foul blood traitor!"

As I understood, the purebloods with a family source have always been considered elites. Renouncing it made them blood traitors, despised by the rest. They faced problems with fueling their ancestral homes' wards and, as I recently learned, sharply increased chances of going insane from Dark Magic. But our humanist times made it inconsequential.

"It is necessary," I replied to both of them. "The Blacks' wealth will benefit the organization, we will gain their vote in the Wizengamot. They are bound to have many interesting things in their manor, and I'm not talking about silverware. Family wands to test with Priori Incantatem, a pensieve with memories of their muggle hunts... I'm confident we will learn something new beyond just torture curses."

My main goal was Slytherin's locket... And the private book collection of the Black family head. Hopefully, it included _Secrets of the Darkest Art, vol 2. The Dangers of Dark Magic: How to Remove Necroenergy. Extended edition_. Dreams, sweet dreams... It will likely only lead to more questions. I've been searching for some magical counterpart of a supercomputer ever since my appearance here but kept finding counterparts of rusty pickaxes.

"I understand everything, my Lord. It truly is an elegant solution, if somewhat unexpected," said Edward. "Still, it's disgusting."

Really, the Death Eaters were so strange. Kill and torture? Easily. Sex with a blood traitor? Oh, the horror!

Elena-Pandora was standing next to me, looking at Alecto and Sirius in the mirror. Neither magical nor ordinary sight registered anything special, but the way she was staring without blinking could only mean one thing: she was following her orders to gather information on the wedding ritual. I immediately focused on Pandora's mind and saw the world through her eyes.

The magic that barely calmed down after the ceremony whirled back into action. This time, the movement was barely perceptible. I didn't initially notice anything, dismissing it as natural oscillations of Pandora's sight. It resembled a nearly transparent kaleidoscope, but a closer look revealed something was clearly happening. I pondered what it might be. Conception? This fast?

"Edward, once the mariage ceremony is completed, does consummating it carry any magical weight?" I asked.

"No, the marriage is considered fully valid from the moment the ceremony ends, as soon as the old channel is replaced by the new one. This is a standard ritual, age or virginity of the partners are irrelevant."

"Then why have sex immediately after the ceremony, when the woman is in no shape to enjoy it?"

"Tradition, my Lord," said Edward. His thoughts said it was no better than asking a Scotsman why they wore kilts.

I was thinking again. Excluding the possibility that wizards jumped straight to sex because they were idiots, this tradition must be necessary. And I only had one guess: necessary for something related to children. Back in her time, Bellatrix got severely hurt by the reconnection. When she thrashed for five minutes with no sign of stopping, they began healing her. It took her a month to recover, and all that time sex was the last thing on her and Rodolphus's minds. It was plausible that her infertility problem stemmed from there.

Should I try healing her? Not according to common sense. A baby would eat up her time, be a liability and potentially an ideal hostage. But it might be worth considering..

* * *

 **Barty Crouch Jr.**

Barty Crouch arrived at the summons of his beloved master and was kneeling in front of his throne... erm, chair.

"You may get up, Barty. We need to talk," the Dark Lord said.

"Yes, my Lord."

"How is life on the run from the law treating you?"

"It's bearable, my Lord. I'm being careful."

"I want to discuss your family."

"Their lives belong to you, my Lord. Just like mine. Just like everything in this world, for you are the omnipotent-"

"Enough. So, your father. He is one of my worst enemies. A powerful wizard who did not eschew Dark Magic in battle. I will try turning him to our side, but he is unlikely to fold. This leaves two possible paths: death or life under Imperius. Although, I would prefer something more secure than the Imperius. Either implants in the body or... I'm currently testing something..."

"Anything you wish, my Lord," Barty replied.

"However, your mother..."

"Yes, my Lord?" Barty tried his best to suppress the anxiety. Of course, the Dark Lord always came first, but Barty's mother loved him. He pitied her...

"She never stood against me, and I don't fault her for anything. She can be easily led in the right direction, especially with your help. We will find her a job: brewing simple potions or babysitting."

"Thank you, my Lord," said Barty, relieved.

"There are too few purebloods. I am interested in increasing their numbers. If everything goes well, you can begin getting used to calling Edward Lestrange Father. Any questions?"

"No, my Lord. Edward Lestrange is a worthy man loyal to our cause."

"Wonderful. Now, let us discuss the jobs you've been performing outside of your Death Eater duties."

Barty flinched. He always believed a human ought to have magic, at least some trace of it. To this day, he woke up in cold sweat from nightmares about sleeping with muggles. Luckily, he didn't have to suffer too much before the Lord allowed him to switch to witches. But Barty still failed to understand the why of it. Master's words about "whitewashing the organization" stuck in his mind. What did it mean? Mass murders were all lies, the Death Eaters were just a swingers' club? Avada Kedavra? Ambient green lights. Crucio? BDSM. Masks? Protocol. Muggles kissing our feet? Well, I'm a master! Ropes and chains? Bondage. And Barty Crouch Jr. himself was not a terrorist, killer or Dark wizard but a glamorous playboy. Oh, he really shouldn't have entered that one muggle's head... with legilimency, that is.

"My Lord... I can't keep up with your powerful mind... All the rituals based on sex... They're honestly weak... Most of them are much easier to perform without sex... Except for marriage rituals, but they don't need any additional research..."

"The Dark Lord's orders are not to be discussed, they are to be followed," Master said.

'Got it,' thought Barty. 'The Dark Lord orders me, and I order my balls.'

"You will know more once everything is ready. I need specialists, and I don't care where or how you find them. If you are curious, it will be a novel approach to working with curses."

It turned out Master was not only the greatest wizard but had a sense a humor... albeit a somewhat unusual one.

"Your will shall be done, Master," Barty replied.

"Go tend to your duties," the Dark Lord dismissed him.

* * *

I was soon alone in my study. At some point in life, everyone wanted to read others' thoughts. But in reality people's minds held very little worthwhile information: most thoughts were variations of "this hurts, I want that." And knowing Barty's made it very difficult to keep a straight face.

I had a good habit of achieving multiple goals with a single action. Now, I was putting together a plan to leak Barty's brothel escapades to our paid off journalists. Barty, of course, worked under polyjuice, so the print version would read "unknown wizard makes rounds of magical and muggle brothels."

At first glance, hardly important news. But who could that be?

The suspect concealed his identity. The suspect was wealthy. The suspect performed blood magic on himself to achieve rock-hard erection: a couple of prostitutes ended up in a hospital with symptoms usually found after group rape. The suspect often spoke of the power of love and did not discriminate by blood status.

Who was it?

Voldemort? Nonsense! The Dark Lord was a human-crocodile hybrid who could only do a woman with his wand and would throw all three Unforgivables at once if she wasn't a pureblood. Everyone knew that!

Death Eaters? Death Eaters paying prostitutes in gold and drunkenly confessing their love? Nonsense! If a Death Eater slept with anyone, it could only be rape followed by, at best, Obliviate, but most likely by Imperio, Crucio and Avada Kedavra. Haven't you read the papers?

Who loved everyone and constantly praised the power of love? Who was the most fashionable and kindly wizard in Britain? That's right, Albus Dumbledore. Who would have thought: the old man decided to relive his glory days! There was truly no fool like an old fool.

I'd need to give Barty a quality Elder Wand replica... Stupid to expose my phoenix for such a trifle... Visiting prostitutes would not land Albus a prison sentence. He wouldn't even lose any of his posts. But it was a start. This way, at least the children at Hogwarts would steer clear of him...

I was thinking. I had a pseudonym: Tom Marvolo Riddle - Lord Voldemort. I should create a nickname for Albus and have Barty use it.

Albus many names and titles Dumbledore... From this day onward, prostitutes shall know you as Sadomaso von Dom, the great champion of the power of love in action.


	40. Werewolves and Future Head of Gryffindor

I sat at my desk in the Lestranges' home, listening to Nott's action plan for the werewolves. It's been an hour, I was getting bored...

"By lending these undervalued lands for their use, we create a de facto werewolf state under our protectorate. They use their own means to enforce the law and safeguard the Statute, gradually learning to stop relying on our assistance..."

A "banana republic" was a good idea. But what if they decided they want true independence? We could, of course, crush them later, but it'd waste a valuable resource and tarnish our reputation. 'First they came for the werewolves, are we next?' It was never wise to break promises with living witnesses. I knew better than repeat Grindelwald's mistake of going against the entire world.

"...They can reach full self-sufficiency in approximately fifteen years if we allow them to use wands and train the required number up to the standards of an average civil servant..." he continued.

Giving wands to werewolves was preposterous. The purebloods would throw a fit, what was Nott thinking? Ah, it made sense: his job was to offer the Lord a plan, and any pitfalls of its enforcement were not his problem.

"...In addition to the likes of Greyback, we must recruit a number of civilian werewolves. A state can't function with only psychopathic soldiers. To create the correct optics for our project, we have prepared a series of diversions. The new forcibly turned werewolves are spreading "important news" of the Ministry executioners going on rogue killing sprees. Through bribes and Dolores Umbridge, we are pushing discriminatory and harmful to werewolves laws. It will soon be time to eliminate Umbridge and leak the disinformation about her serving the Order of the Phoenix," Nott talked and talked...

"I must interrupt you. Are there any alternative solutions to the werewolf problem?" I asked, leafing through a stack of parchment the size of _Secrets of the Darkest Art_.

"They are all detailed in the report as unacceptable. Barring imprisonment and extermination, the only option is curing them. It is impossible. There are stories of werewolves who have learned to control their beast, but they've never been proven to be anything but legends. In any case, it just isn't feasible on a large scale. Wolfsbane is the best method, but the difficulty of brewing and the rarity of some of the ingredients make it prohibitively expensive.

There are rumors of peaceful werewolves living near Hogwarts," Nott continued. "I don't mean the ingredient collectors. The story claims that if two werewolves copulate during the full moon, their offspring will forever remain in the wolf form with a sane mind. But even if it were true, what use do we have for thousands of peaceful wolves? And it would do nothing to solve the present issues. Their condition is somehow tied to the moon. We tried portkeying several werewolves around the world to keep them outside time zones with full moon nights. It indeed prevented the forced transformation, but they all dropped dead soon after. I'm afraid that the only plausible way to remove the curse is to destroy the moon."

Lousy news. Just as expected.

"So no options at all? Only ancient legends? No one in our time has ever described a way to turn a werewolf into a human?"

Corpses were very difficult to chat up, unless they were very fresh. But we could always find common ground with the living.

"No, my Lord."

My sixth sense, legilimency, clearly knew he was lying. How strange...

"Charles, remove all your mind defenses and concentrate on solving the werewolf problem. I will carefully perform legilimency," I ordered.

Riddle's memories advised the Cruciatus, then repeating the question. But first of all, necroenergy. Second, everyone knew the Lord had unparalleled skills in legilimency and always felt a lie, so I was curious what possessed him to try to deceive me.

With a slightly confused expression, he waved his wand to remove his mental shields, then bared his mind.

"Legilimens!" I said, raising the wand I got from Longbottom.

Nott's mind was a mess: exhaustion from working on the werewolf project, disrespectful thoughts about the Dark Lord, dozens of ideas of what to do with Molly Weasley (so far he stopped at the "sleeping beauty" option), and memories of a werewolf cure he read in a fictional story.

" _I put my wand to his throat, then screwed up my remaining strength and performed the immensely complex Homorphus Charm. He let out a piteous moan, the fur vanished, the fangs shrank - and he turned back into a man,_ " wrote someone named Gilderoy Lockhart.

To be honest, I was a little jealous of Nott- he had free time to read for pleasure. I looked through his memories and found two books by this author: _Gadding with Ghouls_ and _Wandering with Werewolves_.

On one hand, it was absurd. Both books described his adventures in first person. If it were true, this Lockhart must either be the level of my Inner Circle elites or a cripple like Moody. Yet the photo on the cover showed... at most, a dainty metrosexual. Well, it was certainly possible that he dressed up for the photo to hype the sales, but he claimed he fought a werewolf hand to hand while worrying about his hair and nails, and defeated it without getting a single speck of dirt on his robes. Personally, I could never defeat a werewolf without magic... Such tactics were just not viable. Some of his spells were obviously made up, he easily switched between different fields and different styles of problem solving. It indicated a wealth of experience, but where did a recent Hogwarts graduate get it? And how did he use magic all around the world without any discomfort? He should have noticed the difficulty away from home. A mutant? Or so weak that he felt no difference?

To his credit, some spells and all of the creatures were described very accurately. So, let's assume that he was a talented writer who described real events. Was it possible that someone cured a werewolf and told Lockhart? Or killed one and spun a grand tale of the cure?

"I am awaiting your explanation," I said.

"My Lord, it was only a fleeting thought, I didn't mean to think of you by your school name, it's just an old memory..." he began to spout excuses.

I kept forgetting Tom hated his name... It made no difference to me, but forgiving him would invite inconvenient questions. And the Dark Lord always punished the same way.

"Crucio!" I said, pointing my wand at him but stopped almost immediately. "This is not my name. But I forgive you for the sake of your many years of faithful service. Make sure to be more respectful. For now, I am interested in a different matter."

"Thank you, my Lord," he said sincerely. He really did consider two seconds of Cruciatus unprecedented mercy. "Yes, I didn't kill Molly Weasley. She can be of some use, she is a pureblood..."

"No, I was talking about Lockhart and his books. Particularly, the story of the Wagga Wagga werewolf."

"My Lord, unlike you, I am a mere mortal and need some way to relax. I got tired of drinking and smoking, so I took up reading fiction. There are so many books to choose from, especially heroic fantasy-"

"Nott, listen carefully. His book describes a spell that turns a werewolf back into a human. The description of the transformation is accurate. The spell is clearly composed of working components, not random syllables. What do you know of it? Have you tried it on a werewolf?"

"To my shame, my Lord, I have. It doesn't work."

"Nott... You are a Dark wizard. If a spell didn't work for you, it doesn't necessarily mean it does not work at all. Perhaps you lack qualifications. Or it is advanced Light Magic. Do you have any information on this Lockhart?"

"Yes, my Lord. He is a self-promoting book author. Constantly travels, visits England for a week every year."

"He must be captured and interrogated. If his book contain even a grain of truth, find it. If he met someone capable of curing a werewolf in his travels, that person must be found and brought to me. They can either teach the spell or heal the werewolves directly, for a fair compensation."

"My Lord... Lockhart is just a half-blood fantasy writer..." he caught my eyes. "Yes, of course. I'll send Gibbon right away."

"And what if he was merely pretending to be a tailor's dummy and fights back?"

"My Lord, he is eighteen..."

"The Longbottoms were in their twenties, do you remember what was left of their house? I was eighteen once, do you think Gibbon could have handled me?"

"I understand, my Lord. I'll lead a team myself."

"No, get back to your paperwork. Find me his location, and I'll send Elena after him."

"As you wish, my Lord."

* * *

At one in the morning, I stood in front of Lockhart's house in Elena's guise. An ordinary little house off the beaten path, protected by a standard alarm that summoned the Aurors in case of a break-in. There was a light in one window. The famous author appeared to be relaxing after his travels.

In the habit of assault operations, I searched long and hard for a trick. There was nothing. Only a single alarm to the Auror Department... A trap? Lockhart was leaving within a day to search for new material for his next book. I had to grab him now.

I put up the standard anti-traversing charms and made myself a door in the ward. I probably should have sent a house elf ahead, nothing was ever this easy...

Led by scanning spells, I soon found Lockhart in the largest room. He was wearing fur slippers and a golden house robe. Some charmed combs floated around styling his hair while the man himself was signing letters with an ostentatious peacock quill... The room was full of half-packed luggage with... his portraits?! To top it all, he was completely defenseless except for a mediocre universally shielding amulet and the best commercially available amulet against legilimency.

Well then, he was either a poseur or a new Dumbledore – the old man shared the same style... I thought about carefully breaching his anti-legilimency amulet, but not even I could do it in less than ten minutes. What if he sensed something and escaped? I had blocked portkeys, apparition, house elves, and everything else except phoenixes, but you could never know...

I approahed him and pointed my wavy wand with Nagini's scale at his back. I had perfected the technique of casting Unforgiveables. Their non-verbal forms wasted much more energy, so I simply walked around under specialized charms that muffled the words Avada Kedavra, Crucio, Imperio and some other incantations.

"Crucio!" I said, but Lockhart never heard it. Before the Cruciatus reached his body, it was followed by a great shield penetrator and a chain of wandless stunning, disarming and restraining spells. I flew up and to the side to avoid the spells he would fire back in the direction of the attack.

I counted on the Cruciatus to drop the target. Then his shielding charms would be destroyed as soon as they sprung up from their dormant state, and one of my wandless spells would neutralize him while I dodged the counterattack.

But everything turned out much simpler.

Lockhart got hit with the Cruciatus. He instantly lost consciousness, and the fight was over. Then the rest of my spells reached him. No shields appeared, as if he had none at all. The penetrator fried his universal amulet. And finally, the unconscious and helpless man got paralyzed, tied up, stunned, and so on... Good thing I didn't slam him with a Firestorm!

I ripped off his mind-protecting amulet, fed him the Draught of the Living Death and started an express-search. A lip balm, another lip balm, mirror, manicure kit, Witch Weekly magazine and more of the like... All in his robe pockets!

A few waves of my wand cleaned up the magic traces and gathered Lockhart's things. Everything looked like he left for another trip. I checked his blood for polyjuice and tracking potions. All clear. Some operation... I could have sent Arabella Figg with a baseball bat to do this.

I apparated him to a base, silenced and securely restrained him with both spells and chains. Still invisible, I returned him to consciousness for legilimency- weaker targets were easier to interrogate conscious. I expected to meet at least some resistance - I evidently got too used to talking to Horace. There was no sign of occlumency at all! Forget occlumency: he was easier than Lily, easier than some muggles. Willpower never developed past rudimentary state. This was the simplest case of legilimency in my entire life, mine and Tom's. I struck too hard and fell straight through to his early childhood.

A normal, wealthy family. Witch mother, muggle father, three children. Lockhart realizing he is the only wizard among his siblings. Everything was idyllic: he had magic, his two sisters didn't. He was the best, the chosen one!

Hogwarts. Sorting into Ravenclaw. He no longer felt special. Everyone around him used magic, some better, some worse. I always considered it obvious, but for him it was an unpleasant revelation. He started to put effort into studying, pulling average grades. But there was one crippling flaw: whenever he didn't feel he was the best at something, he lost all motivation. In spite of that, he was consumed by incredible vanity and thirst for acclaim on par with Tom Riddle. It would have led him straight to the Dark Arts, but his squeamishness and sloth coupled with soft-heartedness left him a pathetic underachiever.

Watching his Hogwarts years, I understood he was far from stupid. He began creating his own spells as a schoolboy: his autograph on the quidditch pitch with nine-foot tall letters, an analog of Morsmorde that conjured a ghostly copy of his face... But more often than not, he was content sending out hundreds of owls with cards to himself.

Lockhart had great chances to become a comedian, until he discovered one area where outshined everyone: the memory-erasing charm. His memory charms were flawless! Probably better than mine... And so, he decided to use this talent to carve out a better life for himself.

After Hogwarts, he set out to travel he world. He found witches and wizards who survived encounters with dangerous creatures, subjected their stories to artistic reinterpretation and presented them as his own.

The excellent memory charms saved him from being discovered. So far, he had gone through seven victims to fill two books. He got them drunk to lower their guard, then hit them in the back with one Obliviate, pouring in everything he had. Anyone who lost to this duffer deserved it... But his method was worth remembering. In Lockhart's defense, he worked very carefully: the people he obliviated lost all memories connected to the event but otherwise remained unaffected. He did it not out of compassion but to avoid the law enforcement's attention to a trail of rambling lunatics in his wake.

I moved on to the identities and locations of everyone he obliviated. The wizard who defeated a werewolf by forcefully transforming it back into a human... In reality, he first restrained the wolf and fed him some concoction whose recipe he never revealed to Lockhart. Apparently, the werewolf survived. Lockhart omitted the potion and chains from his story – it wasn't heroic enough.

Fascinating... Was it true? A permanent or temporary transformation? I could probably force a werewolf to turn back into a human on my own... With one good ritual, causing the werewolf a great deal of pain until it dies a few hours later. Flesh Sculpture was a rare torture method that worked briefly, with guaranteed fatal results... Yes, I better find the wizard who told Lockhart about the werewolf and interrogate him. He will remember everything that happened even if it would be the last thing he does: the memory charm could always be reversed at the cost of destroying the patient's brain in the process.

With some effort, I returned from the stream of Lockhart's memories and stunned him. He seemed utterly worthless... But unlike Crouch Sr. and Slughorn who continued to be a pain in the neck even in captivity, this one would be easy to control. I'd find some use for him.

There was no point in trying to manipulate someone this weak when a direct order would do. Coincidentally, I just finished developing, or rather, modifying a slave-branding spell. I had already tested it on prisoners: it still functioned similarly to the Imperius, minus the accompanying "necroenergy." I'd only have to find materials for the ink first...

* * *

 **Charles Nott**

Nott felt his family home becoming a thoroughfare. The Dark Lord didn't count, of course. He could go wherever he pleased, it was already a blessing he cut down on Crucios and stopped killing his own people like last year. But the Lord's student was rude to no end!

"Mister Nott, I need to speak to you." He heard the voice of the woman for whom he was doing all the work.

"I'm happy to see you too. However, five in the morning is not a good time. To what do I owe such an early visit?"

"The Dark Lord ordered me to deal with Lockhart and you to assist me."

"I'll take your word for it but will verify the next time I see him. So, what do you want from me?"

"I captured Lockhart and interrogated him with legilimency. He appropriated the deeds of others."

"If he is a dud, why the urgency?"

"Nott! He stole other people's credit! There is a good chance someone out there knows how to force a werewolf back into a human! I have the name, address and appearance of this wizard! You are to depart today and bring him here. Do everything carefully, we can't afford any information leaks!"

Whatever the Dark Lord was teaching her definitely didn't include decorum. But it was better not to say out loud.

"If this is the Dark Lord's order, I'm leaving immediately."

"Wait just a moment. We have to discuss what to do with Lockhart."

"What's there to discuss? Either Obliviate, Imperio or kill him," Charles answered. He knew the organization's procedures well but added Obliviate out of the goodness of his heart.

"I have a better idea. We must find a way for him to serve Master."

"He's no more a wizard than a pixie is a snitch."

"There are many ways to serve the Dark Lord. First of all, Rabastan Lestrange is studying everything under the sun. He can use a new tutor."

"Rabastan is a smart man, he would outdo Lockhart in every way. Or does he need a tutor in writing fiction?"

"No. Lockhart is going to teach Rabastan the Obliviate charm. And only it. He'll practice cleaning prisoner memories."

"Perhaps there is some wisdom in that. Even a rabid hippogriff is good for some spit."

"That's not all. He must do more for the Dark Lord."

"This Lockhart does not deserve the Mark."

"Exactly. That's why Master marked him with a slave brand."

At that, Nott shuddered. No, a slave brand was merely a permanent version of the Imprerius. A wizard of his stature would never get trapped in one outside a threat of immediate death. But even that wouldn't spell the end: the brand could be resisted like the Imperius. Until you got hit with Avada Kedavra, there was always a way out.

But Elena's words meant the following. First, he gave his report to the Dark Lord. The Lord ordered Elena to capture Lockhart. She did, then found the Dark Lord in the middle of the night. And the Lord not only held off the punishment but immediately put a slave brand on the prisoner... Then she came here at five in the morning. Nott lost all desire to argue with the witch who interrupted the Dark Lord in the middle of the night to pitch her plans and left on her own two feet. As his father used to say, there was nothing wrong with the world. The people in it, however...

"And what is your plan?" he asked.

"You are well aware of our problems. Capturing territory is not one of them."

Personally, he doubted that. At least until he'd see Dumbledore's corpse and live ten solid years without revolts against a puppet Minister.

"Crushing the remaining resistance with scorched earth tactics is not a problem either," Elena added.

He very much doubted that too. They'd all hide in expanded spaces, how did she plan to smoke them out then?

"But what use do we have for land without peasants adapted to local conditions?" she continued. "It would bring no profit and take inordinate effort to repopulate."

Well, this cleared up her diagnosis: too much time around Malfoy.

"And how can a writer help with any of that?" he asked.

"Mass media will help. Using his talent of sniffing out rumors, Lockhart will spend his free time searching for people who have done heroic deeds or desperately need a hero to help them. He'll keep claiming the victories as his own. The true authors will be a battle-hardened team led by, let's say, Macnair. We will acquire dangerous magical creatures. The Dark Lord can always find use for another banshee. The creatures can be used in raids and experiments or be taken apart into ingredients to cover the costs of operations. At the same time, we will gain our own celebrity figure: Gilderoy Lockhart. Once we boost his popularity, he'll be revealed as a Death Eater. A Death Eater saving people without expecting anything in return!"

"Would the Dark Lord agree to put his mark on this lowlife? Lockhart is a half-blood, and, as you said, pathetic," Nott doubted.

"If it's necessary for the cause, Master would mark even Dumbledore's corpse."

"Well, all of this is interesting, but why are you telling it to me?"

"Because it is not enough for him to be a renown hero. Are you aware of the plans for Hogwarts after the victory?"

"I know the Dark Lord no longer wishes to kill all the mudbloods and eliminate every house except for Slytherin. At your initiative, we adapted a new plan where Slytherins are in charge of everyone else. All purebloods are automatically accepted, but if they want a different destiny they can go anywhere they please. Ravenclaws invent, Hufflepuffs work, Gryffindors fight and heroically die," he recited.

"And how would you ensure Gryffindor's loyalty?"

"It's your plan, ensure it yourself."

"They need a good Head of House! Gilderoy Lockhart is the perfect candidate!"

"He was a Ravenclaw!"

"But he is so brave! He convinced the Hat to put him in Ravenclaw because he wanted to learn more spells to fight monsters!"

That sealed it, his child had no future at Hogwarts. Durmstrang? No, Karkaroff would be there! It looked like Theodore was going to go to Beauxbatons: beautiful girls, nature, sunshine... and no clowns.

"He is a fraud! It's one thing to dupe journalists at book selling conferences and quite another to have him do actual work! Why are you so bent on destroying Hogwarts education?"

"I have no intention of harming Hogwarts education. Lockhart must be taught to the point where no seventh year can doubt his qualifications! And you'll be the one to do it."

"No! I already have enough on my plate!"

"It is the Dark Lord's order. The Lestranges are busy, Malfoy doesn't see anything past his wallet, Selwyn and Burke are up to their necks in artifacts and antiques, Dolohov and the real soldiers would kill him, and any of our Dark Arts enthusiasts would either kill him or teach him so well that he'd be sent to Azkaban after every class. Children should not see that."

He sighed, realizing that arguing was futile.

"I'll go to the Dark Lord. Not at five in the morning, mind you. If everything you said is true, it will be done."

Having shown Elena out before she could say anything else, Charles burned all of Lockhart's books in the fireplace and ordered his house elf to serve plenty of alcohol. He drank and reflected on where humanism has lead him. Curing werewolves, giving money to blood traitors' children, teaching a writer stunning spells. No need to whitewash the organization, he was a saint already... After the third bottle, he cautiously touched his back. No, no wings yet. Good...

Soon enough, it was dinner time. He downed a potion to cure alcohol intoxication and went to the Dark Lord.

* * *

After confirming Nott's orders, I was preparing for work and recalling Tom's days at Borgin and Burke's antique sales. I'd soon get a delivery of one very special object.

The plan was simple. The Hogwarts Board of Governors made arrangements with Ilvermorny to put Isold Sayre's wand on exhibit at Hogwarts for a week. The wand, of course, had to be inspected for curses and damage by experts, both ours and American. And it was all done behind Dumbledore's back in the name of friendship between the two schools and raking in public acclaim.

Regrettably, swapping the wand for a fake would never go unnoticed. I settled for quickly examining it. While the experts were working on the original, I was doing the same in another location. All it took was loaning my Time-Turner to Malfoy. And the experts? Malfoy payrolled them, they stepped out for a moment.

On the table lay Salazar Slytherin's wand. This plain piece of wood hasn't worked in centuries. And after today, it would definitely never work again. Ollivander and I had developed a certain ritual, and it was time to implement it.

So, blood of the heir and a parselmouth, that is, mine. Pieces of the wand's wood: snake tree was easy enough to find. Pieces of the core: finding a basilisk horn was far from easy, but money sometimes worked greater miracles than magic. I, the Dark Lord, could not find a basilisk horn. Lucius Malfoy did. He went back to drinking with Snape right after, but that wasn't my problem.

Having placed everything in its proper spot, I began the ritual.

" _I am the heir of Slytherin, your first master! A true parselmouth! I command you with my blood!_ " I declared and cut myself.

The next step was feeding the sacrifice basilisk venom. It hurt to waste such a valuable ingredient on anything other than poison for Dumbledore, but I had no choice... The chained man died almost instantly.

" _With this sacrifice and one more,_ " I killed a paralyzed magical snake with a knife. A basilisk would've been better, but we had no live ones, not even a baby, " _I command you to share all your knowledge with this wand._ "

I started tracing the necessary patterns with my wand. About five minutes later, Salazar's wand let out a stream of light that entered the new wand.

The concept was fairly basic: Ollivander created an exact copy of Salazar's wand. With some grueling effort, he even managed to enchant it with a password, _Convergence of Spheres_ in Parseltongue. And now, performing the Reverse Spell on the new wand would allow me to access its history. Too bad it would explode with any other use and was limited to recalling the spells performed by Salazar... Isolte Syre and Hormlate Gaunt also lived interesting lives worth studying.

Having erased the ritual traces, I gave Salazar's wand to the Lestranges to clean it up some more. Dumbledore must not understand anything by looking at it. In worst case scenario, Sytherin's wand emitting Dark Magic was nothing newsworthy. It has always been this way! Or it awakened near Hogwarts, sensing its first home. Or maybe it contained the horn of the basilisk from the Chamber, and being close made the wand remember its youth... We'll come up with something believable.

Examining every spell Slytherin used throughout his turbulent life loaded me with work for a long time to come. Luckily, the Time-Turner meant I wouldn't need to give up my other projects.

The wand soon revealed its last five spells. Movement pattern, verbal form... I was not familiar with the very last one, but it looked like something combat and undeniably Dark. The second to last was cutting wind. A neutral charm, good enough against multiple magically unprotected targets. Next, Blood Marionette. Rotting Swarm. Universal Shield. I wasn't sure how Slytherin lived, but he clearly did not die of old age.

Even if I was mainly interested in battle spells, none of Slytherin's legacy should go to waste. He must have raised wards over his home with this very wand. Some defensive charms required indicating the coordinates... If multiple powerful wards were created at the same location, Salazar Slytherin possibly lived there.

His home was likely reduced to a pile of rubble, but I never hoped for any treasure. I already had a home and money. More? I could shake down the servants but saw no point... Luxury? Why have a private plane when I transported myself anywhere I wished instantly and with much greater comfort? Guards? Laughable. They would only get in the way or try to kill me themselves. A Dark Lord incapable of self-defense was a dead Dark Lord.

On the other hand, a place of power would be very useful both as a weapon and a way to offset my Dark Magic use. I only needed to keep in mind that it didn't save Salazar Slytherin.


	41. In Blind Search of Power

I was again working using a Time-Turner. How did I survive without it before?

Voldemort-1 at last succeeded at modifying Lumos into an analog of a laser beam. It was unlikely to get through an average wizard's shields but mowed down muggles in one pass. I now had "Light magic" to demonstrate to dimwits and dropouts. Any number of rays of any color: white, gold, yellow... And the fact that it was simple coherent radiation would stay my secret.

Voldemort-2 worked on a defense against Dumbledore's disembodiment spell. The old man somehow condensed an entire ritual into a single spell. It didn't seem possible to replicate without the Elder Wand, but developing a specialized shield was well within my power.

Voldemort-3 was mulling over "Dumbledore's Golden Flame." Unlassifiable Light magic related to the Patronus charm, impossible to recreate with my issues in the field. I knew the words, the wand movements, poured in the needed energy but got no results. It left me feeling like a squib.

I thought of creating my own version by using the mirror opposites of everything Albus did. Combine the Well of Darkness, Twilight Flame and Antipatronus, make it self-guiding... A bit of mental impact would do some good as well... In theory, Dark and Light spells of this level canceled each other out like colliding electron and positron. But even a test version of "Black Flame" was untold amount of work away.

Voldemort-4 added the basilisk venom Malfoy helpfully supplied to the simmering poison for Albus Dumbledore. It could use some more of Aberforth's blood to strengthen it…

Voldemort-5 was trying to filter out the necessary elements from gratuitous cruelty in potions and rituals. So far, it only resulted in more corpses.

Voldemort-6 was thinking what muggle industrial methods could be applied to certain branches of magic.

Muggles rose on their culture of materialism. I wanted to follow their example. But how? If we all did nothing but permanently transfigure steel day after day, a single muggle steel mill would still outperform the whole of Magical Britain. This particular problem got partially resolved with selective adherence to the Statute, but it was far from the only one.

The majority of spells, especially performed by an average wizard, stopped working after the author's death. Most enchantments had limited use. There were, of course, some powerful artifacts: the Hallows, the Sorting Hat... But they came with their own issues. Each of these masterpieces gained if not sentience then at the very least a personality. Using them required either meeting their requirements or negotiating... Or modifying them, at the risk of breaking the object or dying…

In other words, every witch and wizard was their own universal toolkit, warehouse, factory and communication system. Very convenient. But with their deaths, most of this production capacity vanished instead of going to their heirs. Financial capitals accumulated, magic did not!

My thoughts whirled around raising every dead magical being for forced community service... No, impossible. And dangerous. The whole world would declare me evil and unite to attack. I didn't particularly like this idea myself: people would forget how to work, causing every new generation of undead to decline in quality…

Voldemort-7 finally managed to adjust one of the prisoners' eyes to work in Pandora's mode but ran into complications.

First, the prisoner saw everything blurred and in much lower resolution than Pandora. Second, the prisoner's "Lovegood sight" ate up her magical energy. Third, it created mind-altering effects similar to a medley of narcotics. But Pandora experienced no side effects whatsoever! And neither did her husband or daughter!

This suggested Lovegoods' strangeness was the result rather than the cause of their ability. Either I did something wrong or there were substantial differences between inborn and acquired versions of their sight. Should I still try adapting it to my own body?

One of the most important rules of magical safety warned against casting pleasure-inducing spells on yourself. It was all too easy to become addicted and die, unable or unwilling to cancel the spell. I had already tried using it as a weapon against others, but every euphoria spell had near-zero shield penetration…

There was something profoundly wrong with this world's magic: excessive Dark magic use caused insanity, excessive "spying into the astral plane" did the same minus the violent urges. At least constantly conjuring water blades didn't melt me into a puddle…

After weighing the risks, I decided to continue working on "astral sight" for myself but not use it without extreme necessity. The negative side effects should get minimized by the new body…

Voldemort-8 was reading newspapers. Rufus Scrimgeour elected Minister, Alastor Moody appointed Director of DMLE. It would be ideal to sic Scrimgeour and Albus on each other, but agents reported the Order and the Ministry worked reasonably well together.

The bad news did not end there: our prisoner deliveries from Africa were getting disrupted. Coincidentally, the Headmaster of the largest African magical school received a promotion within the ICW... I knew just whose beard was poking from behind it all.

Voldemort-9 was working on Snape's vows and listening to his report. Lily fell behind on her study plan. Didn't voice any desire to learn Dark magic! I'd have to subtly convince her. No, not subjugating spells. Well-tailored nightmares. And if Lily caught on after I erased my traces, she truly was worthy of the inner circle...

* * *

 **Lily Potter**

Lily loved sleeping. She often dreamed of James and a world without the war. No matter how illusory, the brief reprieve felt comforting. But today she had a very different dream. She found herself on the ashes of her house, weeping over Harry's burned body. The Dark Lord was standing next to her.

"They captured the secret keeper and tortured the information out of him," he said, pointing at corpses that had been the assault team. "The special forces sent to eliminate you targeted the entire house. Your shields and amulets saved you. I came as soon as the house elf called me, but your son was already dead. We need to go, their reinforcements will arrive any moment now."

But Lily could only cry.

She woke up with a gasp, jumping to her feet to check on Harry. He was peacefully sleeping in his crib.

Prophetic dreams or not, the scenario was frighteningly plausible. Could the Fidelius really turn from a secure shield to a millstone dragging them down to their deaths? It already had once before…

The Aurors wouldn't attack a child... But then again, the Lord and Snape had shown her many memories of their battles. More often than not, Aurors and Death Eaters could only be told apart by their uniforms. They'd easily kill Harry by accident while trying to apprehend her.

She desperately thought of what to do. Ask the Lord to put protections on Harry... No, she wasn't insane. She checked Harry's toys twice after every one of the Lord's visits. A couple more months of this pace, and her scanning charms would come out wandlessly…

Guards? No, thanks. The Lord's goons were no more trustworthy than the Aurors.

House wards? If someone got past the Fidelius, no wards would save them. If anything, stronger protections usually provoked a stronger attack. Snape once showed her Fiendfyre... A horrifying sight…

No, Lily knew what she must do: learn to defend her baby boy herself.

She always felt reluctant leaving Harry with the house elf but had no better alternative. Her "healing session" with Snape was about to start. She apparated to the Lestranges' grounds, as far as possible from the train-sized hose that was the Dark Lord's new snake.

Snape was already waiting in the training room overflowing with concealment charms. He looked... in many ways, as he always had: dowdy and nondescript. Yet at the same time he walked with a bounce in his step, his face hid a smile, and his eyes lingered on her the same way James's once did... She felt tempted to punch him, but it wouldn't solve anything.

"Today, I will show you how to make your water whip multi-tailed," he began, "and to transform it into a cutting net. It is excellent for area attacks against multiple weak enemies. Then we will continue practicing the deceleration charm."

If only she had learned it sooner, she wouldn't have killed Wormtail…

"It's all very interesting, but let's do it later. I was wondering if you could show me some... alternative defensive magic..." she asked timidly. Fuck, she wasn't even this nervous before her first time with James.

"What exactly are you interested in?" Snape asked impassively.

He was always like this, unreadable. Lily once tried to hit him legilimency during sparring, like she had read in a book. She instantly fell unconscious. Snape said that he was the worst possible subject for a beginner and offered to find her a muggle, but Lily declined.

"Whatever you recommend," she said.

"Very well. The blood shield. Watch."

Snape cut his hand and drew a cup worth of blood. He worked rather slowly, carefully enunciating the spell and waving his wand. In the end, his blood spread into a thin film between them.

"This film is no thicker than a milliliter! I can puncture it with a finger!" Lily exclaimed. "And why isn't it clotting? Can muggles use blood magic since they too have blood?"

She wasn't as naive as her questions suggested. She read some books at the Lestranges' library, and the Lord told her some things when he explained his duel with Rosier. No, Lily was curious what Snape would say... And how well it matched the Lord's words.

"Lily... It's not that simple. You can power a spell as you always do, with magical energy. The same energy permeates our bodies. You can sacrifice your hand or any other tissue for a spell, but the loss will be permanent. The only exception is blood. Blood of a magical being. Transfusing a muggle's blood will only save you from dying from blood loss. It cannot be used to cast spells. As for the strength of my shield... Trust me, it will easily hold off your Reducto or a tank shell. But the spell will continue weakening, draining a part of me to deflect every attack. Its effectiveness depends on the individual's power and skill in blood magic."

Got it. Magical blood was gas, and blood magic an engine. The car's performance hinged on the quality of the gas and the engine itself.

All right then... She wasn't going to kill anyone with banned magic. This was nothing like the dreadful spells she found at the Lestranges' library... Yet none of those books mentioned a "horcrux." What could it be?

No, she'd only learn to defend Harry with something more than schoolyard spells. Learn the blood shield and maybe one other benign thing. Then, Harry would have twice the chances to survive.

"Repeat the incantation again, I want to try it," she said.

"I don't think this is a good idea. Are you sure?"

"Yes. I'm sure," she said resolutely. If the Lord was here, he'd know she lied.

"First, we are going to learn the safety protocols. And Lily, if you don't want to die prematurely, never use blood magic without me or the Dark Lord present. Unless, of course, someone is trying to kill you."

At her affirmative nod, Snape began explaining how not to die from blood loss...

* * *

Voldemort-10 was leading a third-rate raid. Death to muggles and mudbloods! To be honest, it served no real purpose. I was rarely seen in public lately, and this should placate people's concerns about what their Lord was up to. Murder as usual, you just don't always find the evidence.

Voldemort-11 finished sketching Nymphadora Tonks's energy system. I now theoretically understood what to do. There were three core problems.

First, I had yet to adapt her system to my own body. It would take time to circumvent the risk of turning into a little girl.

Second, I could not for the life of me pinpoint her reflexes for controlling the transformation. Without them, I might turn into an octopus at the worst moment. Or melt into a puddle of goo. Forever…

Third, I didn't know how to give myself metamorphism without destroying my own body in the process. I saw no choice but essentially create a new body with given parameters. It would take thoroughly modifying the flesh, bone and blood ritual, especially since I wanted to achieve more than metamorphism...

My muggle part doggedly hampered the progress. Logically, the girl must create new cells with every transformation. Using her gift should have aged her. But it didn't.

Fine, let's for a moment assume that she didn't age any faster because her cells had infinite division potential. But that should have made her immortal, and metamorphs died from old age no differently from ordinary wizards.

I tried to grasp the full depth of the problem. Was this it, a new variety of immortality not requiring the Philosopher's Stone? I knew a ritual for turning human blood into a concentrated source of energy. "Feeding" on it prolonged life like blood did for vampires. But a single human life didn't last long, and every subsequent donor caused addiction and diminishing returns… Perhaps this ritual was worth trying with a metamorph? I couldn't afford killing my only one, better find more…

Voldemort-12 was again pouring over the data from inherited horcruxes. I've been unable to refine splitting the soul into anything useful. Increasing the soul sounded much more promising. Becoming someone else's horcrux should theoretically increase my durability to the level of a standard horcrux: invulnerable to nearly everything save for the most powerful Dark magic and creatures. The problem lay in hosting a foreign consciousness. It was a path straight to schizophrenia, or worse, succumbing to the horcrux's control.

I could use Barty's or Bellatrix's soul shards... But if they found out my secrets -their Lord was gone, I used to be a muggle and cared nothing for blood purity- they may reconsider their loyalties. And the only way to dispose of the horcrux meant suicide. This could be resolved by using a much smaller soul piece, but no one below the level of Grindelwald would likely succeed at creating multiple horcruxes…

I also considered the concept of reusable suicide bombers. Someone makes a horcrux, enters a target building and detonates it. I resurrect them, they enter the next target and repeat the process. Not a bad idea overall, but if this kamikaze were captured, the enemy might somehow learn he had less than a whole soul. The horcrux secret would float to the surface at a bad time…

I refused to accept defeat. There must be some way to adapt Tom's horcruxes into something useful...

Voldemort-13 worked on increasing Dark magic effectiveness to at least Riddle's old level.

The working assumption was increasing "necroenergy" and decreasing the portion of the remaining soul. In other words, murders acted as a resonator for Dark magic. To avoid spiraling down Riddle's path, I've been making calculations to see whether it would be possible to appropriate other people's kills for my own use. Travel to ancient Dark wizards' glory grounds and try to leech on their legacy…

The results suggested I'd need a location of great many violent deaths by fire or suffocation, all within the past century. A truly staggering number: over a million murders…

Dark magic has been banned for centuries, nothing recent came anywhere near these numbers... Kill a million myself? Doing so safely would stretch the conflict for another half a century, and delaying was just as deadly…

Tom's memories were stumped by the enormity of the task, so I started remembering my past life. Muggles loved their wars. A recent battlefield? No, they must have died not as warriors but as cattle... And that gave me the answer. I went abroad with Pandora.

We soon arrived. I saw nothing special in either normal or magical sight. Pandora claimed seeing pillars of fire and loud barking. How was it even possible to see barking? But I knew she was telling the truth.

Auschwitz...

It felt like a very appropriate place for gaining "Dark Power." Part of these people were slaughtered, part sacrificed by Grindelwald. But I didn't come here in search of sacrifices. I needed an echo of over a million deaths, killed in a particular way. This was perfect.

Now I knew what to take and where. But not how. It would be akin to bringing a muggle to London and telling him to count the exact number of bricks in every building.

No, the overall direction was clear: an immensely complicated ritual, draining the magic out of the entire Inner Circle and depleting our coffers on ingredients... But the sheer volume and dissonance of this many deaths would kill me in the process. I needed a way to carry out very high quality calculations.

Catching muggle mathematicians with computers won't do. A muggle could only calculate the simplest of spells. Creation of anything substantial began with imagining the desired result and conducting a series of thought experiments with magical sight. The visualizations were then analyzed and correlated with standard table values. There was no single correct path, which killed all attempts to automate the process or develop an algorithm for muggles to follow.

Some artifacts simplified this process or performed the calculations, but they were rare, complicated, extremely specialized and magically draining. Hence, the previous Minister authorized the Unspeakables to try an experiment: extract wizarding brains of various freshness to create live computers. But these aquarium brains refused to work.

I had to speak to Rookwood. Immediately. We should clean the Department of Mysteries of everything but the most useless junk such as prophecies. But first, prepare proper habitats for the brains and find a way to convince them…

Voldemort-14 was speaking to Rookwood. He recently recruited another Unspeakable with promises of unrestricted research of muggle technology. This new one was a subpar wizard but an excellent techie.

"My Lord, this is a breakthrough! We call it technomagic!" they raved, interrupting each other. "Here is a combustion engine that transfigures air into petrol and its fumes back into air. We get a car with unlimited driving distance and zero emissions! The enchantments don't interfere with electrical circuits! We're also developing firearms with unlimited ammunition!"

Pray tell, why I do need any of that? I wasn't planning to crash muggle markets. Although... Muggles under Imperius with unlimited silver bullets could make decent werewolf hunters. With a perfect price-to-quality ratio... But werewolves were all on my side. They just didn't know it yet.

"Anything else?" I asked.

"Yes, here!" Rookwood shoved some blueprints into my hands. "The prototype itself is too large to fit here, it is stored at a remote base."

The blueprints told me nothing. Multiple cross-sections only worsened the picture, but the overall shape resembled a stereotypical UFO.

"A flying saucer?" I voiced the first thing that came to mind.

"An interesting name... And very apt! Muggles are incapable of building anything remotely similar because they can't create omni-directional propulsion! But we did it! It flies completely unmanned, only needing occasional charm renewal!"

Rookwood talked and talked... Muggles had a lot of great ideas, but something always limited them: quality of materials, fuel efficiency, weight of flying apparatuses, effectiveness of life support systems.

His team took a couple of muggle specialists as consultants under Imperius. Rather than completely rely on magic, they modified the materials as needed. Made the parts lighter and more durable, increased or decreased friction... Away with bolts and soldering, yes to permanent sticking charms and space expansion! Self-replenishing water broken apart with electrolysis, the resulting hydrogen burned as fuel... It sounded utterly mad, but they claimed it already worked.

"Augustus... How will any of this help us?" I asked the obvious.

So far I only had one idea: put Malfoy's homunculi into the flying saucer and stage an alien invasion... Well, not exactly an invasion, our powers only extended so far. First contact with an extraterrestrial civilization. It'd be fun to watch muggles scramble... But what would that gain me apart from new problems?

"It will give us enormous opportunities for expansion after the victory!" he said.

Yes. Dark wizards in space. Just what we needed.

"How is the flying tank coming along?" I asked.

"Weasley's levitation charms successfully took hold. I reconstructed the spells and can apply them to any object. We do have a flying AFV with magically expanded interior, but it's nothing special: overheating from the inside followed by one good blasting curse turns it into a pile of broken metal."

Too bad... I was hoping for something more worthwhile. Maybe try reinforcing it on my own?

"But we created these two specimens," Rookwood said and pulled out an amulet.

From the adjacent room burst in two... designer abominations. The first was an ordinary metal cabinet on tank tracks… Tank tracks attached in the most unexpected places, with pipes sticking out between them. The second was a meter-wide hovering metal ball. Also with protruding pipes…

"My Lord, these are experimental battle golems "Cube" and "Sphere." The first moves on any surface with adhesive tracks, regardless of gravity. The second one flies a foot away from the surface. They're both equipped with standard muggle weapons -machine guns and a flamethrower. Inner storage of forty cubic meters allows for plenty of ammunition and a large supply of paralyzing and poisonous gases. Defenses - magically reinforced titanium plates plus universal shield and attention-repelling charms applied before every fight. They obey the wearer of the amulet, understand over fifty commands, tell apart allies from enemies. Each was created with a sacrifice of one dog.

Disadvantages are standard for golems. These two in particular have been optimized for ranged attacks against muggles, but I doubt we can produce sufficient numbers for complete cleansing. With full control and mobilization of Britain, our ceiling is about twenty thousand of these machines, we'd simply run out of manpower to maintain any more in working order. I understand your plan to take over and put the economy on military tracks. But I think it may be more prudent to use magically modified microorganisms to remove the majority of muggles. We can then pick off the survivors with conventional methods."

Why were they all so thick-skulled... I had no intention of waging war on any muggles. At all. And neither was I going to kill mudbloods. Their corpses could be used after natural death. I only wanted to quit playing separate worlds and siphon their resources without breaking the Statute!

"Brilliant work, Rookwood."

It really was interesting, only not very relevant. At least they didn't create a reactor that produced energy by burning muggles alive, like I predicted. I probably spent too much time around Rosier... Rookwood had done all that without killing a single human!

"I see the solution to the muggle problem in diplomacy," I explained. "In the event of an open war, muggle Britain would receive the support of other muggle governments, whereas we can't count on foreign magicals supporting us or even staying neutral. Continue working on your prototypes but don't enter them into mass production. I also would like to share a new coherent radiation spell with you. Try adding it to your golems and developing hand-held weapons for Imperio'd muggles. Right now, I'm more interested in a different matter. The Department of Mysteries. We need to put together a plan to loot it and find a way to force the aquarium brains work for us."

"We'd have to act with extreme care not to damage anything. As for the brains... My Lord, no one's been able to make them work," he said pathetically.

"Stage a death of one specimen and deliver it to me. Or find me the method of their creation."

Voldemort-15 was fiddling with what used to be Malfoy's homunculus but now lay a corpse with cut throat. The curse proved more resilient than I imagined. I again stared at the results of my calculations in the table of ritual ingredients. How was I to add "despair from betrayal" and "forsaken hope"? Who made these tables and what were they smoking? Why did it work?!

It seemed Lucius himself must participate in the ritual, as an ingredient. The challenge was leaving him alive and unharmed...

Voldemort-16 was inspecting newly delivered Erumpent horns together with disillusioned Pandora. Everyone needed a hobby. I searched for a horn of a Crumple-Horned Snorkack. Reportedly, this horn looked unique in "astral sight." I was very curious what could be brewed with it…

Voldemort-17 continued extracting spells from the copy of Slytherin's wand and categorizing them. By modern laws, the greatest founder of Hogwarts should have lived in Azkaban, regularly kissing Dementors.

Battle spells were more or less clear: some modern, some better, some worse. A few failed to work in principle, and I knew better than try them myself. I haven't as much as touched most of the Dark magic. Some ritual-specific spells burned the caster alive when performed without a proper sacrifice or runic pattern. Most other spells were clearly catalysts for potions, but I had no way of knowing which.

I had already pulled out several thousand spells, and the farther they strayed from Salazar's death, the less deadly they became. The hypothesis that Salazar lost his mind and was killed in the name of public safety was gaining more and more evidence.

Voldemort-18 was interviewing a new Death Eater candidate. The recently arrived African fugitive introduced himself as Abidemi. If his words were to be trusted, a pureblood. I was more interested in his abilities.

He appeared to be an average wizard with a baobab and grindylow saliva wand. His value lay in his rare specialties: stationary non-European style defenses and "charm sniffing." Shamanism, as I understood. Tom had never met a single shaman in Europe, they were easier to import from Africa.

If Albus read my mind, he'd know I was not a bigot. I hated everyone equally regardless of blood, race, gender, magical ability, religion, orientation... So, we were going to get our own token black Death Eater, like in American films.

"I've looked through your record. We are not concerned with murder, torture, rape or human sacrifice. However, I would like to see your skills in action. My student wants to watch as well," I said, gesturing at Pandora disguised as Elena next to me.

"Of course," Abidemi replied with a bow. "First, I must change."

When I worked, clothing made no difference. But who knew these shamans... As long as he didn't urinate in the corners, he could do anything he wanted. Although, if it stopped the Killing Curse, we'd have to introduce urotherapy…

Five minutes later he returned without any defenses, looking every bit like an African imagined by a 19th century Englishman. He stood barefoot, towering at two meters tall, dressed in nothing but a leopard skin with unknown, brightly glowing symbols. His face struck me the most. He had painted his eyebrows and outlined his forehead with his own blood, which bubbled with energy. But even that I barely noticed. The most imposing was his expression: without an ounce of humor, implacable, full of grace and power one must feel personally to fully appreciate in another. His eyes shined with conviction in wisdom beyond my understanding. If he gave that look to Tom, he'd already be on the floor under Cruciatus. I saw not a speck of sympathy, only harsh righteousness.

In Pandora's sight, his leopard cloth was swarming with "Nargles," hundred times their usual density. Maybe they were simply some minor spirits?

"Let us begin," he said in a dissonantly casual voice. "First, I will list all the charms on you and this woman. Then I'll raise a ward for you to evaluate. I work slowly. Please don't invade my mind while I do. I can answer all your questions later in any way you wish, with your truth serum or a full legilimency scan."

I waited for him to pull out a wand, but he only squatted down on his enormous feet. From his bag, he took out a dog's tail, some dark misshapen ball, and other items whose names and purpose I struggled to identify. He tied the tail to his belt, then picked up a small bundle of dried grass wrapped in red silk.

"Is there a safe in this room? I would like to put something valuable in it," he said.

I was hosting him in my study at the Lestranges'. It had an empty safe I never used, so I did as he requested. He threw the object inside and locked the door. I looked at him with a questioning expression.

"I put in... a valuable item..."

In magical sight, was something Dark. A horcrux or phylactery? No, this looked somewhat different... Probably just an undead-controlling talisman... made of grass? How?

I watched him carefully trace the safe door edge with his finger, forming a saturated with magic line. He returned to his spot in the middle of the room, picked up the dark round object and vigorously rubbed it.

"This is my mother's father," he announced.

I looked closer and saw it was a mummified human head with a few patches of hair still left at the crown. Oddly, it didn't feel magical at all.

"He is very wise," the man continued like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "And I will need his advice. Grandfather, this is your new friend."

He started speaking to the head in his language, occasionally stopping to listen to something and replying. It looked insane, but then the head began to glow like a Dark artifact. Pandora saw wrackspurts darting between Abidemi's head and his grandfather's... At one point they appeared locked in an argument. It must have resolved successfully because the conversation ended soon after. Abidemi looked around the room, pausing at a ventilation hole under the ceiling.

"There!" he said. "That's perfect. Grandfather needs a high place with a good view of everything."

He mounted the head on a corbel, facing the room. Once he returned to his spot in the center, he bowed in four cardinal directions and started to drag his nose like a dog trying to find a scent trail. He paced from side to side, sniffing the air and whimpering. The dog tail tied to his belt twitched as if it were alive. His movements and mannerisms so thoroughly imitated a hound that I hardly believed my eyes when he abruptly sat down and spoke.

"Never have I met a greater Dark wizard," he said respectfully. And legilimency said it was not a lie.

Then he started listing my defensive charms, guessing correctly nine times out ten - unprecedented, considering my anti-scanning ones. If he didn't know the name of something, he perfectly described its purpose.

The traditional method was to remove the anti-scanning charms, then test the rest. Yet I saw him perform absolutely no magic... Another spectrum of magical sight?

"By the way, the illusion on your face is rather mediocre. I can recommend a toadstool brew to better conceal your appearance," he pulled out his wand and conjured an image of my real face.

That didn't impress me. Surely Moody could see through it with his wonder-eye, given enough time. And Albus, somehow...

"This woman here is unusual," he noted, "and not due to polyjuice. She can see a little, only not exactly like me. Every spell she is under was cast by you, including the Imperius."

I cut off my half-finished nonverbal Cruciatus. Hand reflexively led the wand into the optimal movement for the Killing Curse… But, as a matter of fact, why? What did he see that that was so special? Who knew how the Lord entertained himself? What if this was part of our bedroom role play?

"I know how to keep secrets, my Lord," he assured and went on to list every spell on Pandora without fail. Probably because she had much less shields…

I so badly wanted to kill him... But he was a professional "charm sniffer." He'd be useful… If he justifies the trust placed in him.

"Let's say you convinced me of your ability to recognize charms. Show me your stationary ward."

He laid a rope in a circle on the floor and senselessly danced around it for twenty minutes. When he stopped, there was suddenly a small dome in the center of the room. It looked like an ordinary, rather durable ward. But I didn't understand how it came to exist. At all. He created it without a wand, but I saw no signs of wandless magic. Some silly grimaces and dances- and the ward snapped into place like someone flipped a switch! Pandora saw only a little more: a shadowy bucket descended on the spot, then turned into the ward.

He again took out his wand, transfigured a dog, and placed it under the ward.

"You can break it to test its strength now."

I carefully looked over the dome. It should absorb rather than deflect spells… I raised my wand and sent a great penetrator at it. The ward held, only momentarily flickered into regular vision. What then, Fiendfyre? Because I certainly wasn't going to bleed myself before a newcomer!

After some deliberation, I used a construction spell normally reserved for excavating tunnels, with its vector of effect limited to the ward area. No need to punch holes through the Lestranges' home.

The spell ray hit the ward. It spread cracks, held for a second, and fell apart. The dog sat unscathed. Well, considering who tested it and how, the ward was decent.

"I'm satisfied with your skills. You are going to keep very quiet and give a few little vows to ensure it. Until I can be certain of your loyalties, you are not to leave this house. Now tell me, what do you have to offer my organization?"

"I can detect charms and curses on people and objects. Raise uncommon wards over houses. Not like the one you just tested but truly powerful. For that, I'll need ebony and non-mages for sacrifice," Abidemi continued listing his skills, but the most useful out of the rest was summoning rainfall.

I'd have to test him on something simple, not give him too much freedom and conduct a full mental scan... Then have a serious talk regarding his knowledge of werewolves and sex rituals. As I understood from his thoughts, he raped mainly out of love of magic... Fertility rites and Barty Crouch: combine business with pleasure. And the world shall tremble before the power of love!

"You are accepted and will receive the Dark Mark. You may not keep any secrets from me and will tutor Rabastan Lestrange in your specialties."

"I will gladly tell him everything I know, but he is unlikely to repeat it. Does he have his father's or grandfather's dried head?"

"No."

"Then he will fail. If he had it, he must spend many years drinking special brews before reaching enlightenment."

So what, I'd need a mummified head of a male ancestor for shamanism?

"What are you going to do right now?" I wondered.

"I must take care of this place. It is the center of your enemies' attraction, so Grandfather agreed to stay here and watch over everything. I will tie a rope around this building to begin the ward."

"This room is my office. Can your grandfather stay in a different part of the house? As well as the bundle you placed in my safe? You can keep the safe," I offered. "And you are to call me "Lord" or "Master." Speak to Edward Lestrange about the rules of his house."

"As you wish, Master. I agree to serve you in exchange for protection from the law and a fair pay. And sometimes I need live people. For good."

We went on to negotiations and the rules for handling prisoners. I'd have to examine that head at some point. Technically, it wasn't necessary to raise the entire body. But who would ever want a reanimated head? It couldn't speak without lungs…

"We must find another room for Grandfather," he reminded.

"What if the head scares our guests?"

"Grandfather says he won't let himself be seen by anyone he was not introduced to."

Abidemi changed back into European clothes, then received the Dark Mark and gave a series of secrecy vows with dignity and grace. Ten minutes later, he was already lecturing Rabastan on the theory of shamanism. And an hour and a half later, he lit up a cigarette and began tracing the rope's path around the house with chalk.

I went back to the Lestranges' cellar to check on the head. The tribal patriarch was still here, but legilimency on a house elf and all of the Lestranges I brought with me showed none of them could see the head…

Voldemort-19 was reading the latest experiment reports. Tests of magical creature blood on prisoners... More new torture methods... And this one made banshees angrier... Banshees, angrier? It was possible?

The experiment with breeding a giant boggart failed to replicate. They concluded that the original materials contained some unknown random variable that led to success... By the way, whatever happened to that creature that evolved from a boggart?

Voldemort-20 dragged a muggle to the inferi cave to upgrade its defenses. Albus would meet many nasty surprises starting from the very entrance.

Voldemort-21 was watching a team of Japanese curse breakers curse the Gaunt shack. They would be paid and obliviated upon completion, as per their contract. Then die and get up to guard this place.

Of course, this was only the preliminary part. By the time I'm done with it, the Gaunts' home would become a full-scale "Cursed Cabin of Curses." Hopefully, it would be enough for Albus…

Voldemort-22 sat surrounded by astronomy tables and half-completed calculations, stewing over the ritual for gaining a new body with enhanced reflexes, metamorphism, astral sight and so on... The body that must accept any future enhancing rituals without reverting into a mutant who can't show up in public without masking charms.

I'd need a day with a specific star alignment beneficial for rebirth. Go through a couple depleting rituals beforehand... Then some safer ones- after all, metamorphism could, with some stretch, be classified under advanced transfiguration… Incorporating Pandora's developments for animagus transformations. And not to forget rituals of connection and transfer...

I really didn't like how this was shaping up. I'd have to go through clinical death. Dying and having my consciousness transfer into the new body reshaped from the old... Nagini must be somehow included, fortunately my familiar already had a built-in rebirth ability.

The direction to metamorphism was more or less clear, but I needed more. I needed a way to approach Light magic. The only one I saw was through blood magic, namely the Blood Protection Rite: voluntary self-sacrifice to protect someone else. Complete with a deliberate or reflexive burst of magic, of course. Love without magic didn't stop bullets.

Initially, I wanted to organize Diana Crouch an outing with her son, where they would get attacked by Aurors and she'd die to save him. Then I could take Barty's blood under pretense of some ritual or another. But I didn't like it: there was a significant possibility that her sacrifice would protect only Barty, even if his blood coursed through me.

Albus Dumbledore screamed on every street corner that murder mutilates the soul. It turned out to be true. Albus Dumbledore always lauded the power of love. What if it was also true? Perhaps Albus was right. Light magic required love, and no amount of synthesized hormones, altered neurotransmitters, mental magic or love potions would help. I truly loved life, power, wealth, and magic, but it wasn't quite the same…

However, the old man never took into account one little nuance: where to find love. Yes, I didn't love anyone. But someone loved me. I knew two: Bellatrix Lestrange with a woman's passion, and Barty Crouch, fortunately more platonically.

If I used them in the ritual, would the blood of those who love me bring any benefit? I went back to the calculations. No, it wouldn't…

But I was no street charlatan. I had data on the Dark Mark, a two-way connection masterpiece. I had my recent findings on horcruxes. Some attributes of the horcrux-base connection might be possible to recreate. So, before participating in the ritual, Bella and Barty would undergo some changes.

I'd have to fundamentally modify the ritual. An inner pentagram with five powerful wizards and five ingredients on top of the loving blood... Bone of the father. The muggle's body would do... Him being a muggle shouldn't be important, but it may be safer to alter the setup to add grandfather's bone. He was at least a wizard of some sort... Link them via someone who was connected to them both in life. Luckily, I had found Merope's body. Morfin, would I need him? Probably not. Unlike a direct line, my uncle's existence had no impact on my own.

Blood of an enemy... Too bad I had no access to Albus's or Moody's. Barty Sr. might suffice, if prepared properly... Killed by his own son, to add a spike at point five. Only then I'd have to add runes for patricide without Crouch Sr. noticing them. Finally, tie it all into the main system with Diana Crouch's blood. And add blood from couple of Aurors to compensate for low enemy quality with quantity... And maybe some more random victims - I had enemies anywhere I turned.

Flesh of a servant. Any Death Eater? Or the most loyal one? Logically, it must be two: the most loyal and the most disloyal, to play up the contrast. Whom to use as loyal? Rodolphus? Bellatrix? Barty? The last two were out, they were already a part of "loving blood." And what to take as flesh? Arm? Leg? Head? Need to tread carefully here… And the disloyal one? Steal Pettigrew's body. It was burned and decayed but would pass after a treatment. Living loyal - dead disloyal will produce an even greater contrast, only then I'd need to find with what magical animal's blood to offset it to prevent an explosion... And shove a quality copy into Pettigrew's grave. The last thing I needed was for wizards to go back to cremation.

Next came my own contrivances. Two more ingredients.

One was unclear... The tables didn't have this ingredient... I only knew that it belonged to the "traitor" category. What would I need? Blood of a traitor? Life of a traitor? They must betray me or someone else? I decided to look into it later.

The second was simpler. I knew exactly what it must be but not where to find it. Blood of a close relative... Tom killed his father too soon... But to think of it, kin blood could always be produced with a simple Imperio. Make a baby and be done with it. Moral qualms? What qualms – just an abortion. Shortly after birth. My life creed was simple: betray everyone but stay true to yourself. In the past, plenty of people killed their children to survive famine. Any way you cut it, my child would be less important than my own eternal life.

Although... The ritual didn't call for "heart of the firstborn" or "head of the father." Why was I so aggressive? I needed blood, not life. Killing would serve no purpose. And what if I end up needing more blood or some other parts in the future? Might as well keep the child... But someone must raise it. House elves were great, but their mindset would bring up a Mowgli...

This fundamentally changed the situation. If it was going to be something more than a single-use ingredient, then the mother couldn't be just anybody. So, I needed a woman to take care of my child. And a woman to birth the said child. Technically, it made sense to try Bellatrix: I now vaguely knew what was wrong with her. And if curing her failed, I could always tell her to raise the Lord's child from another woman.

I never wanted anything to do with children... Children, the lights of our lives… The only consolation was not having to get married or making more than one... I had to run to Bellatrix. Right away. Only talk to Edward and Rodolphus first, carefully choosing my words. It probably wouldn't be wise to tell anyone I wanted the child for a ritual... Damn, and Bellatrix already had Neville…

I decided to sleep on it. Mental magic and potions helped, but this Time-Turner schedule forced me to regularly rest.

A sudden urgent summons from Bellatrix jolted me back to reality. Putting everything on hold, I went straight to the Lestranges.

Nessie was lazily splashing in her pond. On the opposite side of the manor, Abidemi was carving some wooden figurines by hand, his national outfit making a stark contrast with the February landscape. He worked under acceleration and was completing them rather quickly. Everything appeared tranquil.

I was greeted by the full family, but only Bella spoke. She looked like a rape victim: tangled hair, rabid eyes, nail marks marring her face.

"My Lord, the Ministry is under attack!" she dropped a bombshell on me.

She was telling the truth. Well then, the baby would have to wait... I felt cheated, like I've been preparing a revolution and someone beat me to it...

"And who is attacking the Ministry?"

"No one knows for sure. They say it's you, my Lord. Is it true?"

She probably meant the Time-Turner…

I wanted nothing more than apparate to the Ministry to see what was happening, but they clearly wouldn't welcome me there.

"Tell everyone to keep their heads down and stay away from the conflict zone."

What could I do? Nothing? Claim it as my own cunning plan or blame everything on leftover Grindelwald's supporters?

* * *

 **Albus Dumbledore**

Albus was drinking tea and thinking over Severus's report.

Strange, very strange. Voldemort hasn't been active lately. It could only mean he was busy preparing something monumentally vile.

"People continue to disappear from the London metro. Have you learned of any connection to Voldemort?" Albus asked his spy.

"As far as I know, he has no business in the metro. But there are rumors that the day you fought him at Crouch's, a creature escaped from a Death Eater lab. It's never been found. It may be responsible for the disappearances."

"What type of creature? Do you have its name or description? Magical properties?"

"No one knows anything. This is all I've learned."

Albus had accomplished a lot lately. He visited Gellert in Nurmengard. A chilling picture... He clung to the belief that Gellert lost his true self delving too deeply into Dark magic... That if Albus gave in to the same temptation, he could have easily taken his place… Truly, Dark magic was nothing but one pervasive digestive tract that turned everything added to it into the same final product.

He managed to pull out some information out of Gellert's mind, particularly what Tom might have done to himself prior to their last fight. Albus's hypothesis of horcruxes empowering Dark magic received a solid confirmation. After creating a certain number, Tom would outmatch Albus with his Elder Wand.

In the political arena, Albus discovered and partially halted deliveries of ritual victims from Africa. He set out to create an international coalition against the Death Eaters, but, alas, only the directly affected African countries agreed to join.

Back home, the Order's close relationship with Minister Scrimgeour soured when the Minister sanctioned the Department of Mysteries to use Dark magic to locate Voldemort's concentration camp.

Recently promoted Alastor was running around like a little boy with his new Time-Turner. Albus had to bind him with a vow not to interfere with the past.

The Board of Governors continued generating new headaches. This time, they brought Salazar Slytherin's wand to Hogwarts. The Americans were swearing it used to not radiate this much Dark magic. They insisted that "limeys ruined it." Whose fault was it, then? The paper trail implicated Bullstrode. Albus carefully checked the man's mind, but he was clean... It wasn't easy to unnoticeably probe a strong wizard's head within four minutes of idle conversation. Albus put up with a migraine for the next three days... It would be the easiest to blame Tom, but he would have stolen Salazar's wand, political repercussions be damned. Tom was always obsessed with his relation to Slytherin.

The Order had suffered heavy losses: the Tonkses, the Weasleys... But for some reason none of them were found strung up by the feet with flayed skin, like Tom used to enjoy... A sudden streak of mercy? Seeing the remains of an Auror who was first tortured then used in some ritual that blew him up from the inside in the middle of being kissed by a Dementor, it was impossible to believe in Tom's kindness. It confused Albus even further…

Next to all that, the Order's complaints about Moody forcing them to search for something in the metro looked laughable... Especially after that time when Alastor detained two muggles and made them confess to being Death Eaters. Albus checked the muggles and Moody- there had been no torture or mind control. Truly, Alastor needed no magic to work wonders…

Muggle newspapers reported increasing homeless disappearances... Voldemort solving the muggle homeless crisis by killing them? It was Albus's duty to investigate every lead, however far-fetched.

"Have you learned anything about my brother?" he asked.

"He is alive. I have no information on where they are keeping him or how he is guarded."

"Thank you, Severus. The information has been getting sparse, is it possible that Voldemort suspects you? He doesn't need legilimency to catch you on a lie, he may have noticed changes in your heart rate or other physiological reactions. Are you certain you fully control yourself and always drink the necessary potions?"

"I am always vigilant."

"Well, if this is everything, you are free to go."

After thinking some more while finishing his tea, Albus apparated to one of the metro maintenance tunnels.

He walked around disillusioned, switching between sight spectrums… Nothing. He pulled out his wand and spent an hour casting scanning charms in multiple tunnels. No results. Everything pointed to this being the most mundane, uninteresting place in the world.

Except for some minuscule inconsistencies.

The results of his magical sight and scanning spells didn't quite match. The discrepancy was faint, at the very edge of his senses, but it was there. And it was the exact difference between the magical constants of North America and Britain... Ridiculous…

Albus Dumbledore had many talents, but he was utterly hopeless at divination. His abilities ended at predicting tomorrow's weather. To him, the threads looked equally probable! He even made mistakes eating Every Flavor Beans!

Albus reached into his pocket to pull out an ordinary crystal ball his students used in class, then took a vial of processed dragon blood and dropped some in his left eye. He covered his right and looked into the crystal ball. What he saw perturbed him.

Every choice must create new points of divergence: somewhere he'd be drinking coffee, somewhere tea, elsewhere killing himself. Fortunately, all this madness was usually hidden behind merciful fog. But now Albus was looking into the crystal ball and seeing neither endless probabilities nor fog over the future. He saw one single line. Anything he did led to the same outcome: finding nothing and leaving the metro.

The future existed in constant flux. The mere act of his observing it should have changed it. Future could not be this predetermined, just couldn't... Least of all for the failure of a prophet that he was. But the crystal ball stubbornly showed the same.

Did it break? Albus tried a diagnostic spell. No, everything was right.

The only other remaining test option didn't suit him: Dark magic. But he knew an easier way to bypass it. He'd channel all his will into intent to destroy this place with area curses and let his thoughts seep out into the open. With a strong enough impact to compensate for outside interferences, the ball should show him the consequences.

When Albus imagined himself going all out with Dark magic, he usually saw the fall of the Statute or himself letting Grindelwald out of Nurmengard. But today, he concentrated on the immediate future.

As soon as Albus from a probable conjured a Well of Darkness, from the walls fell out a... thing. It resembled a dense, shapeless Antipatronus or a giant ink splotch. He was about to examine the creature closer when his crystal ball exploded in his hands. Did he pour in too much power? The creature interfered? Wanted to destroy the ball or was merely trying to understand it?

"I know you can hear me," said Albus. "Let's talk. If you are lost, I can help you find your way home or a safe island to hide on."

His words met silence. They were at impasse. He knew the creature was here. It knew it was discovered. But the creature was very odd- Albus couldn't reach it without resorting to exceptionally powerful magic. Magic that was either Dark, which he won't use, or magic that would obliterate the Statute of Secrecy by showing muggles Aurora Borealis over London.

"I am going to leave now. If you accept my offer, don't kill anyone and wait for me here at the same time tomorrow, out in the open. Otherwise, I will have no choice but bring others who won't be as kind," Albus said into the nothingness, feeling a tad foolish.

He hoped it heard and understood him. It was naive to expect anything less from a being that's been misleading Moody for over a month.

Albus disapparated, sat back in his chair and started thinking. The creature from Voldemort's lab had proven real. Horrifyingly real. It warranted alerting everyone this instance, especially Moody and the Minister to isolate and stop it from escaping.

The Minister would want to know what they were facing. What to tell him? The truth? You know, Rufus, I'm not a prophet, but I noticed this strange shadow in a crystal ball...

But delaying was deadly.

The creature escaped from Voldemort's lab. If he took interest in it, it was assuredly Dark.

The creature had strung Moody along and nearly outwitted Albus. It was intelligent.

The creature expertly concealed itself for weeks. Albus saw its image in the ball- a vaporous black mass. Lacking a physical body, it should be susceptible to banishment charms. In the worst case, Fiendfyre. No one aside from Albus would likely be able to handle it without Dark magic. They needed a better way to contact him...

The creature masked itself by blending in with the natural ambient magic. If that shadow Albus glimpsed in astral sight was not a hallucination, it may mean the creature existed on another level of reality. Then, standard methods would be as useful as chopping a shadow with an axe...

The creature understood what to do at a new location. It implied mind magic.

Every one of these qualities was explainable. Albus had seen them before, though never all in the same being. But how did it see the future? How far ahead? Not too far, otherwise it would have been invincible and not need to destroy the crystal ball.

Did Tom know of its abilities? A seer Voldemort would be the last straw!

Albus Dumbledore whipped out his Time-Turner.

One Albus hurried to Alastor to bring him up to speed and ask for advice.

Another Albus personally stood in the cordon around the metro station.

A third Albus went to convince Scrimgeour to fully activate the Ministry's defenses, which amounted to declaring a state of emergency for the first time since the war with Grindelwald. They barely finished the last charm when Albus received a message from the ambassador of France, asking whether it should be construed a declaration of war.

"Of course not. Our only purpose is stopping the Death Eaters from carrying out their plans," Albus replied. They should really be directing these questions at the Minister, not him…

A fourth Albus sat down with books on extinct magical creatures. Begin with America...

* * *

 **Tlahuilopochtli**

It didn't understand where it made a mistake. Streams of magic from the large source formed a colossal, city-size cage impossible to escape unnoticeably. That strange wizard brought more fighters to surround it. Aside from his strange little staff, he now carried some... cloth that hurt to watch. Why wear it? And why did all other wizards ignore him?

There was one relief: they all inexplicably feared to use powerful spells and tried their best to stay unnoticed. Could the thoughts of the non-magicals it ate be true? But if the wizards didn't interfere with the mundane world, why did they come after it? It never ate any of their lot!

Now, the creature's thoughts were consumed by the offspring. Its kind reproduced dismally slowly. All it had achieved were two cocoons with smaller copies, at the cost of inability to reproduce for decades to come. The newborns were almost undetectable in their anabiotic slumber deep below the tunnels. Ignoring the instinct to protect both equally, it wrapped one with over three quarters of the film and hid it away from the main nest. There was a chance the enemy would find the less protected cocoon and stand down. The wizards should know how slow it multiplied, it nearly disintegrated creating the second one...

The white-beard offered to surrender. It didn't negotiate with food. Any information might lead the enemy to the children.

The creature didn't perceive the world like humans. It didn't truly differentiate between itself and others of its kind. It remembered its life in the ancestors' bodies and knew it would live on in its descendants. This was not faith or a philosophical paradigm but a self-evident truth. It saw only one option: fight to the inevitable death. One of the children would probably perish as well. But their deaths won't not be in vain - the second would inherit valuable information about the opponents' behavior and get revenge when it wakes up in a few decades.

The London metro stayed undisturbed. But between the tunnels, an invisible incorporeal body swayed like the head of a giant mushroom, biding its time.

It didn't attack the white-beard. Despite his sub-optimal tactics, he emerged victorious and unharmed in every future where they fought. It could have attacked a group of ordinary wizards, but why? It avoided battles that lasted too long to see their outcome. Why commit to an attack when it could stimulate the fight within the safety of its mind?

A three-wizard team waited in one of the smaller tunnels, their amulets hiding them from the entire electromagnetic spectrum. The creature soon found the correct sequence of actions to defeat them all without raising an alarm. A powerful mental attack engulfed all three. One immediately went insane from the flood of his worst fears. The other two were stronger. It thickened the ambient magic to block their communications and movements before revealing itself. Smoky tentacles shot out at the opponents' bodies. They passed through magical shields like rain through a sieve. But the creature didn't kill or eat them. It aimed for the brains, dissolving everything save for the most basic instincts, not to alert others with their deaths.

Shuffling through dozens of scenarios in its mind, it searched for the optimal tactics... Too little information. It had to kill and consume a wizard for a full access to their memories. Its mind's eye spread out a three-dimensional picture of the surrounding tunnels full of people. There were some weak wizards among them. It soon found the best target: in seven seconds, one would enter a bathroom stall and disapparate.

The creature sent part of its body ahead in long, thin threads, taking great care to stay hidden. In one swoop, the wizard got figuratively and literally swallowed by black smoke.

The first magical it ate in this life provided truly priceless memories. Its kind used to haunt human nightmares. But now not even legends remembered it! This new wizarding society was ideal: the Statute of Secrecy, ban on powerful magic... Almost all of the magic capable of harming it was illegal! Only a minuscule number practiced it, and they all operated outside the law! They would never defend non-magicas if it didn't threaten to expose the magical society! And it knew how to stay unnoticed. With such an unskilled population and only two powerful ones who would never work together, it didn't have to die here... A single wizard's memories might not be enough to feel secure in this conclusion, but this was neither time nor place for gluttony.

The wizards put all their efforts into stopping it from escaping. It decided to hide instead. Since wizards didn't rule over non-wizards, the food was not going anywhere. If only it knew this from the very beginning, it would have never been discovered… In this new reality, necromancy was outlawed. The wizards wouldn't summon the spirits of their disappeared brethren to learn what happened... But it was better not to get too arrogant, lest they pull something dangerous from the Ministry's lower levels.

The wizards couldn't maintain their blockade forever, not when it left them open to attacks from their own kind. They were at war with each other. Food destroying itself! Still, some were bound to survive, and there must be other places without a war... When the locals clash in their next battle, it will escape its prison once more. Escape and get far away from here. Far away from Albus Dumbledore with his disturbing wand and cloth. Far away from Voldemort, who somehow pulled it out of oblivion.

It was uncertain whether it had gathered enough strength to cross the ground beneath the wide expanse of water surrounding this island... But after eating several muggles, it knew that they had a tunnel underwater leading to a place called France. A tunnel was a very big tube, big enough for it to seep through the walls…

It knew where to go and how. It only had to wait for an opportunity.


	42. The Dark Lord Steals a Married Woman

There had been no assault on the Ministry. Our informants stirred panic over a magical blockade of London.

It caught everyone off guard. Agents and Imperio'd from our and foreign governments knew nothing apart from the fact that Albus waltzed into the Minister's office, and minutes later the country was in a state of emergency: wards around the entire city perimeter, sweeping charms for detection of magical creatures, every Auror recalled to London, including from vacations and foreign missions. And I had nothing to do with any of it.

The Death Eaters panicked. Rumors ranged from the Lord having done something unthinkable -gone to storm the Ministry alone or got captured and held under increased security- to the Ministry throwing away the rulebook and preparing to arrest everyone.

Once I calmed down the Lestranges, there was no alternative but to call a general meeting and soothe everyone else's worries, acting as a live mascot. Snape had nothing to report, either lying or not informed. Elena-Pandora set an example of cold-bloodedness.

I didn't quite understand whait to do next and decided to respond with the same: commanded everyone to stay on high alert to counter a likely attack from the Ministry. Rosier took a new ritual knife and left to draw additional runes around the camp, Bellatrix went abroad to contract mercenaries, Dolohov stopped teaching the new "soldiers" how to enunciate "Crucio" and gave out combat artifacts, Macnair pulled out a Cerberus twice the normal size from somewhere, I was feeding Nessie Red Caps to make her a bit faster, Crabbe and Goyle were gluing protective amulets to Acromantulas... Only Malfoy alone contemplated how to prove he was innocent as a wayside fly. His thoughts were very peculiar: step out and cast the Imperius on himself?

Hours flew by, but the attack never came. No point in sitting around with bated breath. I found Edward in a ritual hall and offered to help him strengthen their wards. In the light of my latest calculations, it was time to think about children.

"Edward," I began, not looking up from charging the runes, "I want to speak with you about the future of the Lestrange family."

"My Lord... This is somewhat unexpected," he mumbled, poking around inside a muggle with a knife.

Personally, I would have stunned the muggle before cutting. Edward evidently thought that a securely restrained prisoner with removed vocal cords didn't need anesthesia. Why did strengthening their manor's wards necessitate killing someone? And if he had to be killed, why torture him beforehand? It wasn't required here... A conditioned dynamic stereotype?

"I beg you not to punish Rabastan, I am certain he was very careful."

Wait, what?

"I have his blood sample and sort of... tracked him. Sometimes he… he visits a muggle neighborhood. Always the same house. When I scanned him, I found female hairs... muggle hairs..."

Poor Edward. He must have noticed Rabastan running off to get hairs for Lily and suspected his son was hiding an affair with someone of unacceptable blood. His fatherly instincts and sense of duty had to be so conflicted... Kill the muggle and cruciate his son... Or was he desperate enough to accept a half-blood heir?

"Maybe... maybe we could marry my youngest to your student? I'd only need her information to check their compatibility," he continued.

Not a bad idea, but Snape would not appreciate it.

"I have nothing against it, my friend. But she is conducting experiments I can't abandon. She will likely be barren. Do you want another Bellatrix?"

Of course, I had no need of Lily with horcruxes. But Lily convinced that Albus made a phoenix horcrux and eschewed Dark magic to keep his sanity – such Lily would come handy. Who could have thought: Albus Dumbledore was so ineradicably evil that he became a Light wizard!

"Why rush? She can give birth, then go experiment all she wants," he said.

"Unfortunately, this job does not suffer delays. Why don't you get married yourself?"

"To whom? Purebloods are drop in the ocean, many oppose us. No one from abroad would willingly come to a war-torn country. As for the rest... Magic or not, I'd rather stay away from marrying relatives."

"What about Diana Crouch?"

"She'd cut my throat the first night! I have no desire to keep my wife under Imperius for the rest of her life. Besides, she brings nothing to the table! Their accounts are frozen, she doesn't stand out as a witch. And I haven't the foggiest if she is even a match for us."

"You only make it sound dreary. She is a healthy, pureblood woman of reproductive age, unrelated to you. We can work on her memories to have her fall in love with you. Between Malfoy's and Lockhart's methods, she will not remember ever being with anyone else. She is destitute, I give you that. But first of all, you are not poor yourself, and second, her accounts will be reactivated once we take over. And regarding adding her to the family... I know a way to guarantee success by having her son kill her husband properly."

Lestrange finished with the muggle, and the runes lit up with red glow.

"In that case, I suppose it's worth trying... Thank you, my Lord."

"This is not all I wanted to talk about. I see your son's marriage to Bellatrix never brought the desired results."

I looked especially deeply into his mind, for feelings he barely acknowledged to himself. Sadness… Longing for grandchildren. Edward liked Bellatrix well enough, but family came first. He briefly considered poisoning her, then decided his son was free to make his own choices.

"Rodolphus... He lost his head over this woman. I still don't understand what happened. She was normal before the wedding, then something withered in her... Not even her extracted eggs accept anyone's sperm. But I respect my son's choice."

I thought her problem stemmed precisely from their family source. It perfectly replenished her magical energy but barely cleared out "necroenergy." It was somehow preventing her from conceiving. Another one might fix everything.

Actually, my research was producing bizarre results. Rates of accumulation from murder and Dark magic varied from person to person and from spell to spell, but the speed of clearance had only three fixed values: wizard with a family source, wizard without one, and Bellatrix. Well, there was also zero for a wizard with a horcrux. By contrast, I had very thoroughly examined Andromeda: an ordinary disowned witch. When I asked her why she refused a perfectly respectable arranged marriage and ran away with a muggleborn, her answer was "love." A crazy theory connecting the Black family, necroenergy and love was slowly ripening in my mind...

"There is nothing stopping him from trying with someone else," I said.

"There is. His feelings."

"I can help your family again, Edward."

"We are forever grateful to you for saving our family from the curse. But I'm afraid in this case magic is powerless. I will not take away my son's free will."

"I am not offering to force feed him Amortentia or have women rape him. There is a much simpler and elegant solution. I'll take Bellatrix for myself. Then Rodolphus will have no reason to stay faithful to her. He isn't made of steel. Sooner or later he will find a lover, and you can add the child into the family."

"Do you think he'll accept?" Edward knew about my history with Bella, but outside of blood purity, he was a man of very few prejudices.

"I will take care of it. Right now."

Edward's eyes flashed with fear.

"No, I am not going to torture him. Or even order him."

"You think it's possible? I suggested divorce countless times – he ignores my words. Not even taking Felix Felicis before talking to him helped..."

"I know how to be persuasive. Never say a word to anyone about our conversation. Perform any rituals you know to conceal these memories."

"Yes, my Lord. If you succeed, my debt to you will grow ever larger. I'll start preparing for the ritual right away."

One down. I could relax on this front.

Having finished with Edward, I went to find Rodolphus. He was in the library, absorbed in a book and fiercely scribbling something on a piece of parchment.

"Rodolphus, we need to talk," I began, putting up privacy charms.

"Of course, my Lord," he replied, putting away _Taming the Poltergeist_. I remembered it listing some curious spells for working with ghosts.

This was the hardest part: convincing him to give up the woman he loved. But I've been crawling around the Lestranges' heads for months and put together a plan of what to say to every one of them.

Before Tom secured his immortality and began relying on brute force, he was very adept at manipulating people. But he only ever used two strategies – flattery and intimidation. Even in his youth, he had a fatal weakness. He never understood people could sacrifice themselves for someone else, could willingly do something contrary to self-interest. Rarely. Not all of them. Not for just anyone. But they could.

I was not like him. I knew people had this quirk and didn't hesitate to use it. My arsenal included a third method: 'I am here to help you, I'll do what you need, but you must pay me for it.'

I started with casual banter: weather, Dementors, curses... Then it was time to get down to business.

"How's Neville doing?"

"All right, my Lord." Rodolphus started to tell me how they cared for the boy. Under his deceptively casual tone, I felt gnawing jealousy and regret that the child was not his.

"I have many loyal followers, but I gave him to Bellatrix. Do you know why?"

"Because we are your most faithful servants and can raise him a worthy Death Eater."

"It is, without doubt, true, but not the main reason. I know Bellatrix's thoughts."

I held a dramatic pause. Every decent wizard had some command of occlumency, but Bellatrix and Rodolphus were relatively equal and could not read each other. Besides, most people obeyed the unwritten rule of staying out of their loved ones' heads – hard to love someone while being privy to their thoughts.

He stilled, visibly torn between good manners and curiosity.

"She is suffering because your marriage robbed her of the chance to be a mother."

Rodolphus's eye twitched. He pushed away his drafting instruments and ordered a house elf to serve wine.

This was a hit below the belt. Of course, Bellatrix only loved the Lord, but she was fond of her husband. She never blamed him for the tragedy and long since forgiven the dead ham-fisted wizards who did their compatibility calculations.

"I gave her Neville not to raise a worthy servant, not to reach the Longbottom's money, not to preserve magical blood, but to bring her some relief. It did not help."

The wine glass pitifully cracked and fell from his hand in a shower of shards.

"I... I suspected it's weighing down on her," said Rodolphus, downing the next glass.

Suspecting was worlds away from knowing. How wonderful that he believed me without proof...

"She thought of leaving you to conceive."

Strictly speaking, nothing was stopping them from divorcing. Except, ceasing to be a Lestrange would not automatically return her to the Black family. And who'd want to take in a mentally unstable, infertile woman obsessed with a homicidal maniac? With her biography, the only option was running to Albus in hopes of a pity pet.

"My Lord... is your information accurate?"

The world was full of childless couples, but knowing that the woman you love is only staying with you out of desperation hurt on a wholly different level.

I nodded.

"So what can I do?" he asked. "I've searched for a way to cure her. There is none."

"You know I am researching spells used by Slytherin. Some I pulled out of his wand, others – from his notes in the Chamber of Secrets. There is a ritual... If modified, it may help her bear children."

"What does it require?" Rodolphus spoke quietly, but his entire demeanor betrayed his interest.

Now to feed him hogwash I'd be too embarrassed to tell even Lily.

"The ritual itself is not the problem. The child's father must be an extraordinarily powerful wizard. I myself barely make the cut."

I had to be extremely attentive here, in case he tried anything stupid. Legilimency didn't make me omniscient. People's thoughts developed unpredictably, and a wrong query often led away from key information.

"My Lord, I agree," he replied.

Wonderful! But suspiciously easy...

"We'll raise your child as our own. At last, Bella can be happy with me!"

What? No! I need your wife for good, not for one time! Where is your pride?! Let her go!

"The ritual requires a magical marriage, a high binding ceremony. She will be compelled to stay faithful to me for the rest of her life." Listening to Edward's endless options for Black and Carrow was not a waste of time after all.

Rodolphus hesitated. I could practically feel the cogs turning. Snape acted the same when he contemplated going to Dumbledore to beg for Lily's life. What would win: lust and jealousy or love?"

"My Lord.. Would you have time for a woman and a child?"

He almost gave up, holding on to the smallest straw of why he shouldn't let her go for her own good. Amusingly, neither he nor Edward ever considered Bellatrix might not want this.

"I have a Time-Turner. This will be a great boon to our cause. As a true son of Salazar, I am only missing a worthy wife. I offer the perfect lineage of the greatest Founder."

He wouldn't believe in a sudden spark of love. This way, it was both calculated and bound to make Bellatrix happy.

"I agree, my Lord. Do I need to divorce her?"

"Don't sleep with her but hold off the divorce. It would lower her combat effectiveness."

"Will she be living with you?"

Good question...

"She is my secret keeper. Until I find a more suitable home, she will stay here."

I watched Rodolphus. Dumbledore always praised the power of love, but so far I only saw it turn people into drooling doormats: Lily loving Harry, Severus loving Lily, Rodolphus loving Bellatrix... I silently promised myself to never fall in love – I'd live longer and better.

The only part I disliked was the binding marriage ceremony. If she cheated, I should take care of it myself, because those daft fidelity oaths cursed willing cheaters and rape victims alike. We'd still need to rely on a ritual, not necessarily the marriage kind. Make Crouch conduct it... If it cured her, great. If not, I'd have a child from someone else and have her take care of it. Bellatrix was extreme in her obsession . She would kill another woman but welcome the Lord's child from a different mother.

"Everything I told you is to remain an utmost secret. It is an order. You may only inform your father, brother and Bellatrix about your change of family status."

I could finally rest! Bellatrix was about to return from her assignment, and she needed no convincing.

With these pleasant thoughts, I got caught off guard by multiple emergency summonses. They all had the ability to contact me through the Mark, but no one ever... abused the privilege. What happened for this many to call at once?

I focused on the sensation... Rosier, Nott and Amycus Carrow. All three from the same spot near our camp.

The mood instantly soured. Travers's head popped out of the fireplace. I canceled my privacy charms.

"My Lord, the processing camp is under attack," he reported. "We can't fight them off without you!"

He believed it to be true... It wouldn't hurt to bring the Lestranges, in case of a set up.

"Sebastian asked to bring Edward!" He stared into my eyes, concentrating on the event to ease the reading of information.

Setting a personal speed record, I looked through his thoughts. Nothing nearly as bad as he made it sound. No Albus, no Aurors, no direct assault – just the Ministry trying to pinpoint us with some ritual.

I summoned Edward, and a house elf at once apparated him into the room.

"Father, I'm coming with you!" said Rodolphus.

"No point – it's not a fight, we can't connect an extra person-"

I cut their goodbyes short and flooed us both to the target. An ordinary though spacious room was already filled with the usual lines and runes. Folks were in a hurry, hadn't even had time to prepare a sacrifice yet. The Carrows and Nott waited in their respective corners, sparkling like Bengal lights. Edward took the fourth, and I stood in the center to grab hold of the control threads. As the most powerful of them, I got entrusted with leading the ritual.

The magic rushing through me gave the sensation of being thrown out of my body. I watched the scene from above, powerless to do anything but manipulate the streams. Something invisible was pounding on the wards from within...

"My Lord," Rosier's voice sounded as if from underwater, "during my daily inspection, I noticed strange fluctuations in the concealment systems. I took the liberty of calling others for help. The shifts continued growing despite our efforts. When it became apparent this is an attack with Dark magic, we called you."

I tried to make sense of the situation. The enemy's magic acted like a magnet, affecting something within our camp... Calling something through the charms that were blocking its path. If we continued to do nothing, the charms would come off. And then, this place would quickly become crawling with Aurors and Albus.

I was not at all prepared for a fight: hadn't bathed in dragon blood, hadn't performed any enhancing rituals, Nessie could not be quickly transported here, new projects were all in preliminary stages... And frankly, nothing we had stood a chance against the united forces of the Order and Ministry... Retreat? Prisoners were no big loss, but this place housed expensive equipment, ingredients, Malfoy's homunculi, stationary artifacts... Stupid to leave evidence... Burn everything with Fiendfyre? Wasteful... The only reasonable option was thwarting their efforts to detect us, then leaving the exposed location.

Nothing happened at first glance, but in magical sight, my form entered a cluster of rays that were pushing against the wards. I began blocking them one by one. Choosing one that looked the densest, I visualized a map of Britain to conjure its trace far away from us. Body immediately ached... There were so many of these rays... And so I toiled on, like a miner digging for coal, with colleagues lighting the way and handing me instruments...

Again and again I took the threads of foreign energy under control, created their traces elsewhere, and dissolved them. As the threads vanished, I was slowly approaching the point of their origin. At the end of the last one, I was forced to transform into the pure mind form and braced for potentially deadly hallucinations.

From the outside, I must have appeared a cloud of dark mist hovering in the center of our ritual circle. My mind, however, interpreted the resistance as my physical body walking against a water current. Waves of magic from the enemy ritual hit me in the chest and stomach, stray spell fragments formed sharp rocks and twisting threads at the bottom... Occasionally, they slipped from under my feet and rolled away, colliding with one another... And all that was illuminated with curious reddish glow.

Carefully feeling my way through the stream, I stepped deeper and deeper, until the waves parted before a strange hall with fifteen people dressed as Unspeakables... Attack them? Too dangerous... I'd kill one or two at most, it was far better to stay unnoticed..

Suddenly, another metaphorical rock slipping from under my foot made me lose my balance. I fell into the water, quickly sinking to the bottom. The water pull felt disorienting. I pushed away from the bottom, trying to reach the surface of the ocean of magic for a gasp of air and failing. It felt as if the ocean consciously wanted to kill me – however much I swam upwards, the water constantly rose to keep me just under the surface.

There had to be another way to get out of here... If up didn't work, try down. I dived to the bottom, searching for a spot that could be breached. There it was!I broke through a stone barrier and continued onward. It may not have been the right way, but at the moment it was my only one. There! Oh, for God's sake, not a dead end... They'd detect me if I kept at it... I looked for more weak spots in the stone to escape. Opening up one channel, second, third, fourth... The fifth one looked promising. Accelerating, I tumbled out of there and back to where I first slipped.

Now this spot felt motionless, though still thick with some subdued power. Let's see... I carefully aimed in the direction of the greatest pressure. But no, it wouldn't work. That place sat at the crossing of the streams, and reaching it would take passing them all. Well, if you must, you must...

More and more intersections... I felt like I got sucked into an invisible intricate web. The structure of the streams resembled a nervous system, with me running around inside it. I tried memorizing the layout... Physical pain was now amplified by pain in the energy channels. Time to hurry up. One more fork... No, impossible. Seeing endless branches connect into a single harmonious whole left me stunned with awe. What if I simplified the problem and ignored everything beyond a few turns ahead? Another fork ahead. Some loops, a spiral curling on itself… This was even worse.

I had to move forward, abandoning the idea of taking it turn by turn. The picture made no sense unless perceived as a whole. I felt like a rat in a maze... The web had spread to the bottom of the ocean, and that bottom itself was pressing me down. I continued following the central lines, approaching the goal. The pressure was gradually receding, why? One vector formed a path leading to our camp... From where?

"My Lord! Is everything all right?" asked someone, probably Edward.

"Don't interrupt," I heard my own voice from afar.

By my will, the surrounding web rolled into a ring and allowed me to exit it. Fans of psychedelic hallucinations would have died of envy. I reached through the ring towards the energy and felt the odd pressure stop affecting me.

Could it truly be the Ministry's magic source before me?

Accelerating the flow of magic within me to the limit, I hit the bottom and punched right through, creating a giant rift... And this new breach lead back where I started.

I removed the traces of my work and cut off the ritual. The fog condensed back into my body, and I barely had the time to re-apply my appearance illusions. Seemed like I've done it...

"Milord, what did you just do?" asked Rosier.

"I found the point of origin of the fluctuations and dampened them. The pressure will soon let up."

Curse Scrimgeour for letting them to use Dark Magic! No, I understood his reasoning, but it would have been so much better if they continued following their self-imposed arms limitation.

"We have around six hours before the enemy's ritual fully extinguishes. Once it does, they will begin checking the marked locations. You must return this place to a pristine slate and move everything out before then. I have created false signals all around the Isles, but it wouldn't surprise me if they checked every one."

"My Lord, we'll barely make it in a week..."

"You have six hours."

The reason was probably not that they were lazy but that it was physically impossible. No, no point in cruciating anyone... If anything, they needed help moving and cleaning.

"I will personally take part," I said.

I wanted round up every single person I had here, but the Ministry's charms bearing down on us would detect a large number of moving wizards... And so I, already exhausted, got to work: levitating cargo, casting Astral Cacophony, drinking potions, and repeating. The cargo had to be both packed up and received on the other side, where more of my copies worked under concealment... This was no plain boxes anyone could handle but a multitude of sensitive instruments, basalt sacrificial altars, equipment for raising homunculi, the homunculi themselves, vials with unicorn blood carried by wizards under Imperius, a caged banshee, an aquarium with baby dragons...

We decided to sacrifice the prisoners to muddle our traces. All of them. The Carrows had work cut out for them.

We got done in five hours, which for me stretched into nearly three days. It would take advanced Dark magic to understand anything was once here. And the Ministry would never sacrifice dozens of wizards to test every suspicious signal I had created. Pandora's sight showed havoc: no way to tell whether this used to be a concentration camp or Nargle litter box. I could rest.

Back at home, I looked at myself in the mirror. The face that stared back belonged to an alcoholic after a week-long bender: pallid and puffy, eyes red from burst vessels. Diagnostics showed the beginnings of magical exhaustion and moderate potion overdose. But on the bright side, I got a chance to practice construction spells for their intended purpose of burying tunnels and changing the density of dirt... Too lazy to clean myself up, I ordered Gaby. That actually made me feel a bit better. The bed beckoned...

But before having a chance to step away from the mirror, I felt a panic-laden summons from Edward. I apparated to their house and found him kneeling over his son's unconscious body. House elves were running around in hysterics, wailing "Master Rodolphus is hurt!"

No, it couldn't be.. He'd never try killing himself... I persuaded him to let Bellatrix go for her own good, not ordered him to leave her... The vow? I haven't ordered him anything new...

Edward at last brought him back to consciousness. Tom had never seen any of the Lestranges drunk – as he shouldn't have when there were so many ways of curing alcohol intoxication. But now Rodolphus was clearly plastered off his face. One house elf started yammering about their master almost choking on his own vomit.

Soon all of their elves gathered around, and Edward cast a sobering spell with shaking hands.

"So, Rodolphus drank too much," I said. "What does it have to do with me? Pour a potion down his throat or let him sleep it off."

But even conscious and sober Rodolphus stayed unresponsive. Drawing on my extensive life experience, I immediately diagnosed him with post-Cruciatus shock.

"What happened here?" Edward questioned the house elves whilst connecting to the manor's monitoring charms that displayed records of events in a glowing orb.

I hit Rodolphus with legilimency. Unexpected...

"Mistress Bellatrix came home and says she did the Dark Lord's task," one elf squeaked. "Drunk Master Rodolphus said she can't have a baby and he's wanting to divorce her."

Rodolphus should've worded his thoughts better... Or maybe he said it deliberately, to spare her the guilt of leaving him? Regardless, he was not a hopeless case – successful legilimency meant the mind was still in one piece. Not a veggiewizard.

"And then Mistress Bellatrix used the Cruciatus on Master Rodolphus, and when she got bored she took Neville and left," the elf continued.

Rodolphus got off easy. Bella's Cruciatus was excellent, but she stopped short of frying his brains. He'd get over the pain shock. House protections? They both had equal level of access, lovers' quarrels were soon mended. However, if she attacked Edward... No matter, I'd just summon her right away and explain everything myself.

Edward looked at me like I was Merlin reincarnated.

"You didn't order him anything?" he asked.

"No, I convinced him. Give me your arm to call Bellatrix."

She should have apparated to the signal. But she didn't. Strange, the Mark indicated she was alive. And the vow wouldn't let her disobey... Although... I never ordered her anything in the true sense of the word – a hint sufficed. And since she had no orders to come when called, the vow let her ignore it. She must have known I was summoning her because of the incident and didn't want to see Rodolphus...

"Edward, send a house elf after Bellatrix. Have it relay my order to come here immediately."

"Heard that? Go!" Edward snapped at one of the elves.

"Master, I can't feel where she is. She covered up..."

Now what? I'd never believe in Bellatrix defecting to Dumbledore. But she could easily do something stupid. For instance, kill someone in the middle of a crowded street and get arrested... On second thought, she was unlikely to start a fight with a child at her side...

Where could she be?

"Gaby, check my house."

The house elf popped off and quickly returned.

"Nobody's there, Master."

"Edward, prepare a ritual to search by blood.".

"Mistress Bellatrix wrecked the Lestrange family head's office before she left," another house elf reported. "She burned the safe with Twilight Flame."

Edward exploded in a stream of profanity. Aside from storing blood samples, he used that safe for expensive instruments, documents and original land deeds.

So in other words, my trusted person, the keeper of my Fidelius, ran off in unknown direction with a child of my enemies? A child who was officially dead and allegedly fit a certain prophecy? Was this a magical terrorist group or a fantasy soap opera?!

No need to panic. Just think. Think and hope that no was searching for Neville this very moment, because his protections against blood detection were stationary... Set over Lestrange's manor...

All right, if I were a scorned woman with a child, where would I go? My home. Homes of my relatives. Friends. Acquaintances. Lovers. Excellent. Now, how much did that apply to Bellatrix? Let's assume it did.

She had no lover, I had checked with legilimency. She was unlikely to find one quickly or go to a brothel. This scandal should have put her off sex.

Friends and acquaintances? Edward had already sent house elves to check other Death Eaters' homes. Nothing.

Relatives? Sirius and Andromeda lived in our dungeons. Aunt... The house elf posted near the Blacks' family home saw neither the house nor Bellatrix. She had no access, and the house was so warded not even charm traces registered.

Narcissa remained the only option. Of course, it was unbecoming of the Dark Lord to personally search for Bellatrix, but she wouldn't listen to anyone else. She had undoubtedly winded herself up enough to attack Elena. Considering my state, she could win...

Within minutes, I barged into Malfoy's home.

"My Lord, to what do I owe the pleasure?" asked my slippery friend.

Well, you see, I'm here for your wife. No, that was the wrong thing to say, and I had no time to break into his mind. Order him to let me in? Then I couldn't miss his contingency plans for getting off scot-free, which deserved a long Cruciatus session. But first of all, damned necroenergy. Second, wasting precious time. Don't punish him? He'd assume the Lord has either gone soft or was bad at legilimency...

"Lucius, Bellatrix suffered a rebound from an experimental ritual. She is not in her right mind and is wandering around somewhere. Have you seen her? I think she may have gone to her sister."

It was not hard to imagine the horror that gripped him: Bellatrix not in her right mind...

"My Lord, we must go to Narcissa right away! She is staying in our house in France," he exclaimed and started setting the fireplace.

"Is your wife not living with you?"

"We had a fight.. several fights..." Malfoy paused to send in the floo password. No "pure blood forever," only a long, meaningless combination of symbols in different languages. "First she took our son to France, saying I ordered her to do it... Then she noticed a large sum of money missing from our accounts... And many new spells on the manor... Not long after, she walked in on me changing my handwriting to correspond with Skeeter and didn't believe it was business. In her words, no journalists are worth bribing that much... Then a house elf told her I've been meeting with Elena under privacy charms. It was strictly business talks about removing the curse! I've also been staying late at work and drinking with Severus more often... She exploded and left again."

The Black blood clearly showed. He should be grateful he didn't get cruciated.

I changed my face with another illusion and followed Malfoy into the fireplace. A moment later, we stepped out in his home in France. I discreetly recorded the coordinates with a wandless spell.

"Narcissa! I missed you both and stopped by to see you! I'm here with my business partner!" Malfoy shouted into empty air.

Narcissa technically knew her husband was a Death Eater, but Lucius did his best to protect her from any more details.

My charms detected four people, and I walked in their direction. Malfoy followed behind, probably in case Bellatrix was feeling violent. After a bit of thinking, I took out Longbottom's old wand and started casting cleansing spells. Bella was smart enough to recognize me by the wand without altering her sister.

We entered a sitting room. My worst fears didn't come to pass. Narcissa and Bellatrix were peacefully drinking tea, deep in conversation. Draco and Neville were playing nearby.

Draco immediately ran to his father. Neville continued fiddling with a toy. Some kind of dynamic facial illusion was making him impossible to identify as a Longbottom.

Narcissa prattled on, diligently pretending not to notice her husband. Bella's eyes quickly zeroed in on my wand – she recognized it.

"Narcissa, it's such a delightful day in England today," Lucius began. His wife pointedly ignored him. He tried to approach through the child: "Draco, how would you like to go shopping for your own broom? You can pick any model you want, even a grown-up one – but you must wait to fly on it until you are older."

The boy got instantly fired up with the idea and started bidding his mother to come with them.

"Mrs. Lestrange," Lucius addressed Bellatrix, whose lip curled at the sound of the name. "It is wonderful to see you. This is Mr. Raywood, my business associate from America. He wishes to discuss something with you."

Narcissa looked unsure of the situation. First her sister comes in with a toddler and says she is divorcing... But seeing Bellatrix's pithy nod, she decided to leave it be.

When the Malfoys walked out, Bellatrix hit the boy with a sleeping charm. I put up privacy charms and removed my appearance illusions.

"My Lord," she bowed. "You wished to see me?"

I found you at last. And today, I wanted more than just see.

"Take Neville and go to my house."

Leaving here was much easier than arriving, and we were shortly back home. I put the boy into a conjured crib and left the house elf to stand watch.

"My Lord, I won't go back to him!" she announced as soon as we were alone.

Music to my ears! Say it again...

And now to portray a quality Romeo.

"Bella... It has always been my life's dream to build a better magical world. A long time ago, we separated because of my foolishness. I made a mistake. I've put my duty to the true wizards above my feelings. I was convinced that love would only be a weakness on my journey. But today... I lost you for some time. When I couldn't find you, I forgot about everything and rushed to search for you. It opened my eyes to the truth: I want you to always be with me."

"I'm your most faithful servant.." she began. She was obviously missing the message – the Lord had been completely asexual in the past years.

"I am happy you left Rodolphus," I simplified it. "Be my woman!"

"My Lord... You are incredibly generous, but I need no pity."

She probably thought that Rodolphus had found a replacement and wanted to kick her out. And that I was saving her out of pity... What twisted paths did her logic follow? I should have bypassed her mind protections first, then talked to her without guessing...

"Bella, I realized I loved you all these years. I can't live without you a moment longer. Be with me. Forever and always."

I had no time for courtships.

"My Lord... it's all so sudden... I agree!"

Wonderful. Now was a good time to get into her head to make sure I didn't misinterpret anything... But ordering to bare her mind would be as rude as ordering her to strip. How to distract her...

"Gaby! Serve us dinner!"

We sat down at the dining table. I started dispelling and rolling down my protective charms, Bellatrix got busy with the same.

"Bella, you've grown even more beautiful. Your lips are like coral," I gushed, recalling what was customary to say in these circumstances. The principal rule stated that if you want the same old from a woman, you must tell her she is different from everyone else. I should have really complimented her eyes, but wizards often interpreted any mention of the eyes as a hint at legilimency. Better not.

After ten minutes of romantic dinner and spilling cascades of compliments, I managed to covertly check her mind.

 _"Will this filthy elf bring the last dish already, I'm all wet here,_ " she thought.

My mistake. I used standard advances for an average woman, but she was already in love... How fortunate that I had no compunctions against sex on the first date.

"I think I've had enough,' I said. "I want to show you the house."

"I'd love that, my Lord."

Start with the bedroom...

"We had a lovely time, Bella," I said as we walked into the bedroom, "but I wish for more intimacy in our relationship."

"I missed your touch for so long, my Lord. Please, help me out of this uncomfortable robe."

She was fetching. Tall and shapely, with voluptuous breasts. Her hips were fairly narrow, but the round and perky butt more than made up for it.

I followed Riddle's example, using legilimency to anticipate what she wanted and when... Everything went smoothly, until his memories once again did me a sorry service. He had never particularly enjoyed sex. I, on the other hand, got too lost in the moment and sunk too deeply into her mind. She never noticed, but I glimpsed not only her thoughts but also her sensations. All of them. The odd feeling of thrusting into myself stopped me cold.

"Is something wrong? You don't like me?" she asked.

I did, very much. But I'd never use legilimency in the bedroom again. Or cover her in mind-protecting amulets? Cover my head with a blanket and close my eyes? And how to explain it to her? An anti-legilimency amulet highlights the lushness of your breasts? And I cover my face because I'm shy? We, Dark Lords, have high moral principles, you know: mass murder is daily routine, ripping people's souls and imprisoning them in objects to burn them later is a breeze, but intimacy embarrasses me?

….Why was I wasting time on this nonsense? She had decent occlumency, all it took was leaving her mind and staying out.

"You are magnificent. I was just thinking about work. The Ministry almost broke into Rosier's concentration camp with Dark magic today..." Because who was always at fault? For Tom, it was muggles. For me – the Ministry and Albus. Even when it came to erection problems.

"What? Why haven't I heard anything?"

"You were busy negotiating with mercenaries, it was no reason to distract you. I countered their search ritual and helped evacuate everything with the Time-Turner... Moved literal tons of dirt to hide the destroyed buildings and tunnels..."

"How many time streams did you divide into?"

"Fifteen."

"Master, you need to rest. Let me reward you."

I got no chance to reply – so wonderful when a woman knows how to use her head.

Everything seemed fine this time around, but then problems came from a different direction. My fears. What if Edward, Rodolphus and Bellatrix gathered together, discussed what I told them and realized their versions didn't match?

No. They wouldn't... And even if they did, they would never believe each other. Or be convinced that the Lord told the truth to them personally and lied to the other two... But I better take precautions...

Needless to say, I again lost the mood.

"Master, are you all right?" Bellatrix asked, casting a wandless diagnostic charm at me. "You have sleep deprivation and mild magical exhaustion."

She was perfect. None of that "why aren't we holding hands" or "there is no you and I, only us."

And then it hit me: I missed someone's spell! I was defenseless next to a powerful witch! I could have been killed this very moment! Bellatrix was skilled in wandless magic, and I've never seen anyone avoid a point-blank Cruciatus... Poor wizards. Sleep with someone weak – break through their occlumency and lose the mood. Sleep with someone strong – worry about being killed with a wandless spell and lose the mood. The best solution was muggles with mind-protecting amulets...

"Master, you're so tense. Forget about everything for a moment and let me give you a massage."

I tried to banish all the unnecessary thoughts out of my mind. Closed my eyes to be certain. It seemed to work... Bellatrix kept on mumbling something about "master" and "my Lord." She never called me Tom. And I couldn't shake off the feeling I was Barty Crouch at a brothel...

Honestly, I always wondered why wizards didn't use magic during sex. But now, having been burnt by legilimency, I understood: sex meant no shields, and losing concentration was a ticket to the healers. For example, if I fingered her with telekinesis and slipped, she'd be in a world of pain… And that's considering my level of control… Or maybe I just haven't been with a woman for far too long…

In an hour, I felt utterly spent. But she looked fresh. How?! Magic? The power of love? I'd look into it later.

"Bella, I had a wonderful time with you. Unfortunately, I can't satisfy you right now."

"Should I… leave?"

Love was easy to portray, but a hard-on didn't lie. While magic could help, this was not the time or place to try anything new, especially on myself.

"Of course not. I happen to have some leftover Lust's Folly I brewed for Black. Do you mind?"

"Not at all," she said with a grin.

"If it becomes too much for you, give me an antidote or stun me." I had a decent idea of how this potion worked. Talking to me would be pointless.

"It won't, my Lord."

I'd never give it to her because then I would definitely die, torn apart more thoroughly than by any horcrux. My headstone would read: "shagged to death by a desperate servant." Albus would declare that love always wins in the end. Rodolphus would weep over my grave, saying that he should have been in my place. And Barty would say that if he were near, he would have sacrificed himself to save me.

But jokes aside, one of us had to be in a rational state of mind in case of emergency. With these thoughts, I drank every bit of the Lust's Folly. Almost every other love potion was water compared to it.

It reminded me of alcohol, only infinitely stronger. The very first sip changed something. I felt like a catholic priest who had never fornicated or even pleasured himself. But after decades of that life, he completely snapped and went to rape children. I got struck with an unbearable urge to fuck. No matter who: Bella, Lily, Snape, a house elf, a pillow. "Lust's Folly," indeed. The brain shut off, able to follow only one command: go to the nearest object and hump it. And the ability completely matched the desire. Luckily for me, the nearest object was Bellatrix.

I probably could have canceled the potion's effects somehow: reached for the antidote, cast some spell. But it left not the tiniest scrap of motivation. I couldn't even articulate any thoughts, only go through the motions like a pilot pumped full of drugs to the point of frothing at the mouth. I saw, felt and comprehended everything, but control of the body was lost.

I enjoyed the process. Bellatrix did too, though, in my view, it was rough. She cast something on herself a couple of times, probably for strength to continue. The things she did! It was as if she took the same potion... Did it wound my pride? A little. But it made no sense to compare us. I was just a man who wanted sex. She was a woman whose life-long dream came true. It was akin to reviving a dead man before his devastated widow.

In eight hours, the potion's effects finally dissipated. Bellatrix looked like a cat overdosed on catnip. I didn't think we'd have any problems with compatibility. With my Time-Turner use, her once a day would be once every three days for me... After spending a night in bed, I realized that if it weren't for my foolish procrastination, I could've had half a year worth of these pleasant memories. I didn't feel like a legendary lover – Bella could orgasm from my touching her elbow, and it was no personal accomplishment.

I could have ended it right there and returned when I wanted more. But I did need her love.

"Bella, let me give you a tour of my home."

And I showed her.

"Here is my safe. It contains very valuable items. Do not break it. And no Twilight Flame! This is my potions lab. Here I'm brewing a poison for Dumbledore. Do not cross this layered ward line… This is my workshop. Here I work on crafting a wand worthy of my greatness."

Except so far nothing but Albus's wand replicas came out. Here, let me give you one in case you ever decide to impersonate him. Only they don't work, so you must cast everything wandlessly... I could open a business. Elder Wands by Voldemort, handcrafted with tender care. Elder tree wood, exact appearance of Albus's wand, core varied. Not designed to perform magic... I should probably give Bella a piece of jewelry as a token of affection...

"...This here is a copy of Salazar's wand that holds the memory every spell he cast with it. I am trying to look through them all... This is my familiar. _Say hello, Nagini_."

" _Hello_ ," Nagini hissed back.

"My Lord, what is it?" Bella gaped.

"My familiar. An experiment. Part snake, part Phoenix. Don't be afraid, she obeys me."

"You're the greatest wizard alive!" she exclaimed and began kissing me.

It was flattering, of course. But not very likely. Not until I kill Dumbledore. It was unfair to compare us considering his vastly different set of skills, but I still ran from him… Flamel's abilities were a mystery, the age of seven centuries scared me. I could only pray he didn't use a Time-Turner to train...

Wait, how did she kiss me? Why was I walking around without shields? Better fix it...

"Bella, how do you see our future?"

"Amazing, my Lord."

"You are the secret keeper of my house, you can't stay here for long."

"So what is your order?"

"I'll tell Edward to give you the guest wing."

"I don't think I'll be welcome there. I left rather loudly. Can I stay with Narcissa?"

Not a bad idea. The Malfoys has plenty of room. Out of sight, out of mind. She'd forget her past faster and have less chances of running into Elena… Pity I couldn't hide her under another Fidelius without destabilizing my own...

"Is that what you wish?"

"Yes, my Lord."

I suddenly remembered Malfoy's thoughts.

"No, we will go to the Lestranges. I don't trust Lucius. Do you need anything?"

"Only to pick up Neville."

The boy was a big downside… Re-gift him to someone else or what? But on the other hand, it wasn't as if I had to interact with him. Let him be Bella's problem, her practice before caring for her own child. I'd visit Bella for sex and give the boy toys by the truckload. If he asks for anything, I'm busy. Forever. Just send the house elf to buy some toys...

Before long, I was already moving Bella to her new rooms and putting up wards. Upon some thought, I transfigured copies of the toys I saw Neville and Draco play – not much of an effort on my part, and it made Bella happy.

A woman living in her estranged husband's house was not very gracious, but I never cared for conventions. I was far more concerned with my child. Should I tell her I want one? Why talk? Get straight to work and tell her to assist. At last, Barty's findings would come of use... I'd tell her later, or she might have a heart attack from happiness.

Bellatrix woke Neville and started playing with him: teaching him basic wand movements with an inert piece of wood.

"Look, my Lord, he is doing it!" she said.

In my opinion, the boy was much better at chewing the toy wand than waving it... And he called Bellatrix "mum." She better make sure he doesn't start calling me dad. I hugged her, and hands slipped below her back on their own accord... No, I didn't want sex, but touching her felt nice. Thoughts whirled chaotically. How much could Bellatrix earn if she published her memoirs? "And then You-Know-Who stuck you-know-what you-know-where..."

At that moment, I once again felt multiple urgent summonses...

"Dear, I'm being called," I said, twisting out of her embrace.

"Can I come with you, my Lord?" she asked hopefully.

"I'll find out what is happening and call on you if I need you," I promised, leaving now my Bellatrix.

* * *

 **Rufus Scrimgeour**

Scrimgeour paced around his Minister's office like a caged lion, brooding over whether he had made the right choice. This defensive war was leading nowhere. They had to take out You-Know-Who as quickly as possible, and Rufus did not believe it could be done with clean hands. He'd never stoop to groundless arrests or torture, but some of his methods still put the Ministry at odds with Albus Dumbledore.

He had recently issued an executive order to the Department of Mysteries, authorizing them to use blood magic to locate You-Know-Who's concentration camp. The problem lay in hiding the Ministry's use of Dark magic from the public. His salvation came in the form of Albus Dumbledore, who demanded a full blockade of London after seeing a "Tlahuilopochtli" in a crystal ball. He readily indulged Albus – fully activated wards would conceal the Unspeakables' ritual. This was their chance to deal a decisive blow to the Death Eaters and save an untold number of lives.

No, they hadn't killed anyone for it. Fifteen Unspeakables stood in convoluted drawings, cut themselves and chanted some gibberish. In theory, it should have dispersed the enemy's wards and revealed the location of their camp. But it didn't work. Rufus privately doubted the ritual did anything at all.

"Get the Head of the Department of Mysteries to me," he ordered through his communication artifact.

Within seconds, before him appeared someone in a mask and a heavy cloak. This person's name was secret even to the Minister. He didn't know their age, gender or race... Only that they had unrestricted access to any knowledge at the price of being a lifelong prisoner of the Department of Mysteries with no personal power, freedom or identity.

"Are you certain the ritual worked?"

"The ritual was a success. We held off the enemy's counterattack. A total of five people, one of them the Dark Lord. We do not know whether they suffered any losses."

"Do you have anything to add to your report?" asked Rufus, waving at the stack of paper in front of him. It might as well be reduced to two words: no result. The supposed "potential locations of mass human sacrifice" were three hundred circles all over the map of Britain, each four hundred meters to ten kilometers in diameter.

"No, Mister Minister. Have you studied the briefing packet for the new Minister of Magic?"

"Yes." Scrimgeour winced. His career had led him to the very top of the DMLE. But when he got the Minister's chair, he learned about the existence of three more clearance levels. It was... unsettling.

"Then you must understand the danger of using Dark magic."

Why hoard all that knowledge if not to use it?

"Can you offer any help at all?" he asked.

"My advice is to focus on the Tlahuilopochtli. I wouldn't spare Dark magic on that creature."

"You believe it may be real? Nobody's seen one for over a thousand years, if they existed at all. How could one end up in London, of all places?"

"Albus Dumbledore claims it was created by the Dark Lord."

"If You-Know-Who possessed such power, he would've been using it himself."

"As you say, Mister Minister."

"We are storming the Acromantula nest in an hour. Does the Department of Mysteries have any means to prevent losses on our side?"

"It does. But if Albus Dumbledore participates in the assault, he will not accept our methods."

At first glance, the choice was obvious. But today their "powerful magic" had proven useless. It was worth trying to side with Albus and comparing the results.

Personally, he held very little faith in a joint operation of the Auror Department and the Order of the Phoenix. The unclear chain of command was bound to cause problems. And Albus himself didn't shine during the last battle... Getting old? A little too early… Though, no one knew what Grindelwald had done to him in that duel... But if Albus at least temporarily neutralized You-Know-Who, they'd stand a chance to avoid casualties.

"We'll keep the Tlahuilopochtli contained while you fight," the Head Unspeakable assured.

* * *

 **Augusta Longbottom**

Augusta was angry. Extremely angry. Angry at herself for being so powerless. But she saw no other choice.

"Augusta, I'm happy to see you," Albus greeted.

The deaths of her children devastated her. Albus said he found their remains that had been turned into undead in France. But her grandson still lived. She just knew it in her heart, no matter what every stupid ritual she performed suggested.

Someone anonymously reported her to the law enforcement. Mother of a distinguished Auror practicing blood magic... She was facing two years in Azkaban, but Albus Dumbledore reduced it to two months in St. Mungo's mental ward: "the woman lost her mind from grief, she is not responsible for her actions." She recently got released.

"Albus, look – Neville is alive! He's in France!"

Albus Dumbledore let out a weary sigh.

"Augusta, stop and think about what you are doing. Do you _want_ to go to Azkaban? These are obviously today's results. Blood magic is illegal, and it is my direct responsibility to curtail it! Yet here you are coming to me with new evidence of your guilt! This is nothing but disinformation, an attempt to torture you with false hope or smear the reputation of a war hero's mother."

"My grandson is there!"

"It hurts me to say this, but Voldemort kills everyone in his path. Your grandson is dead. In honor of your children's memory, I'll close my eyes to your crimes one last time."

There were no wand movements, no words, no hand gestures. The parchment with ritual results simply burst into flames.

"Goodbye, Augusta. If you have any legal business with me, you are welcome to return."

"Goodbye, Professor." The woman got up and walked out the door, biting back the tears.

* * *

 **Albus Dumbledore**

Albus was again alone in his office. The poor woman… He dearly hoped she wouldn't do anything foolish.

He pulled out his Elder Wand. A slight push of willpower, a spark of energy – and the scattered ashes gathered back into the parchment with ritual results. How unfortunate that he was forced to be so rude to Augusta…

Albus examined the parchment. A ritual by this and that scheme, using Augusta's blood... And there was the result: a Holland-sized area of France. No, it almost certainly was disinformation. But when matter concerned Voldemort, not even the wildest possibilities should be discarded without checking.

Why did everything have to be this complicated... He'd think about it later, after giving all their soldiers one final look-over. While their parallel selves fought Acromantulas, he and Alasor went to stand in the lockdown perimeter. The creature declined his offer to surrender. Pity. It could have thrived in a preserve. The world had plenty of magic and non-sentient creatures to sustain it.

The Unspeakables wanted to capture it alive, the Minister didn't believe in its existence, Voldemort was ignoring a clairvoyant, magic-manipulating creature with inherited memories… Did Tom not understand what he had lost? Or was it his plan to let out Tlahuilopochtli and wait for everyone to fight over it? The neighboring countries already began stirring with rumors. This problem had be resolved quickly: the sheer value of this creature could spark a war over the right to possess it... Though, what war? It was no longer the Middle Ages. At most, they'd see an influx of foreign Aurors and mercenaries running around... As if they accidentally got lost during a drill – Confundus, a defective portkey or whatnot… Albus made a mental note to prepare a speech for the ICW, preemptively warning of zero tolerance for foreign interference in British internal affairs.

* * *

 **Lucius Malfoy**

Lucius was frantically trying to make sense of today's events. Why were they in a state of emergency? Why was the Dark Lord chasing after Bellatrix? Where did Bellatrix get a child? Narcissa stayed stubbornly tight-lipped on the subject of her sister...

He wanted to visit Edward Lestrange to find out what happened, but the man refused him. As he glimpsed from their house elf's thoughts, Edward was tending to Rodolphus's recovery from Cruciatus...

Then it dawned on him: Bellatrix had a child from the Lord!

The mere thought sent Lucius into a fit of anxiety. Some things were just not meant to be known. He almost rushed to erase the memories but decided enough was enough. He didn't need to wake up next to his wife and ask why she was not in France. Everything barely started to mend between them...

"Something wrong?" Narcissa muttered. His tossing and turning must have woken her.

"Sleep, love. Everything is fine."


	43. The Order Strikes Back

To be honest, resolving the concentration camp problem left me a little too relaxed. I was certain that the Ministry raised maximum wards under some made-up excuse to cover their use of Dark magic, then didn't lower them to look legitimate. They'd eventually blame it on a drill or a leak of some thing or another, and everything would go back to normal. But I retained enough common sense not to jump straight to the signal. Not without finding out why someone was calling me yet again.

Our Acromantula preserve was under attack. Everyone awaited my decision to either run to the spiders' rescue or leave them to their fate. The situation revealed as follows: Crabbe and Goyle were gluing amulets and applying defensive charms to Acromantulas when they found themselves under attack. Concealment got blown off right away, followed by pressure on the wards. They both escaped after the very first hit.

We naturally tried sending a recon party from the useless lot as well as some golems and animals under Imperius. None returned or sent back any information - most likely destroyed or captured.

Now I was at Crabbe's house, debating what to do. Logically, property must be protected. But I had not the tiniest desire to valiantly rescue spiders from unknown forces, especially when I wasn't at my best. Send in another batch in hopes that they bring back information? There was no guarantee they would fare any better than the last. And what if the Ministry mutts were again meddling with Dark magic? Now to justify it correctly.

"These overgrown spiders are not worth the life of a single pureblood. It is all the more ludicrous to defend them by risking my most faithful. Can this in any way be traced to you?" I asked Malfoy. The last thing I needed was to lose a treasurer.

"No, my Lord. All work there was done by werewolves and men under Imperius. The only paper trail leads to Avery."

As I gathered from Malfoy's explanations, the Ministry had no record of their lease because the original got accidentally burned in a fireplace on its way to the archives. Malfoy and Avery kept the only remaining copies, but Malfoy wouldn't testify against himself, and Avery was about to be convinced.

Touching Crabbe's Mark, I summoned Avery.

"The Ministry is storming the Acromantula preserve. Be ready to become a target of intense scrutiny. Don't get caught in the paws of justice, but it you do- stay silent. We can quickly get you out of prison, but it would be preferable if you didn't end up there in the first place."

"My Lord... How did I come under the Ministry's suspicion?" he asked with sincere bewilderment.

"Your land was used to house Acromantulas. Factually they are Malfoy's, legally – yours. I forbid you from retaliating to Malfoy. Go cover your tracks."

I again touched Crabbe's arm, this time to call in everyone but the busiest.

"My loyal followers, the Ministry stooges are busy fighting Acromantulas. This is a perfect opportunity time to strike at the enemy's weak spots. If you meet any resistance, do not engage them. Stay away from the Ministry and Hogwarts, and don't forget to send recon ahead of yourselves."

We already had a list of targets for such an occasion: a couple of public officials and merchants who refused to cooperate. Good operations were not normally done this spontaneously, but it was only logical to take advantage of the Ministry's distraction. In the worst case scenario, I'd lose some cannon fodder.

* * *

 **Albus Dumbledore**

Tracking down the Acromantulas turned out fairly simple. After the last battle, Albus had looked through the captive spiders' minds. Conjured clouds covered the stars, but he approximated the longitude by sunset and sunrise times. He sat down with piles of books on botany and herbology to classify every local plant and look up their ranges, then physically checked all matching locations. Having found the target, he informed the Minister.

For all Scrimgeour's flaws, he had the single most important merit: a drive to proactively fight Voldemort, even if he didn't know how. Once Albus personally located the Acromantulas, a joint operation appeared to be the best decision. The Minister did want to use... objectionable methods, but Albus said that in this case they can't count on his aid.

Now Albus walked across the field that was recently a forest. Everything had gone smoothly for a change. Acromantulas were a terrifying enemy in the woods, but when they stood against the entire Auror Department on brooms... It was not a battle, or even a hunt. It was a slaughter. Albus himself fought from the ground, stunning everything around him. Spits of poison and spiderweb all dissolved on contact with his shields. Voldemort's wizards never showed. A dozen of werewolves made no difference and were immediately captured. Albus thought of what to do with the captive creatures, but it was ultimately not his decision to make.

"Great job, Albus," said Moody. "This many spiders will do a lot of good at Mungo's as potion ingredients. I'm taking the werewolves in for interrogation, then off to rot in prison with the rest of Voldemort's lackeys."

Cruel and regrettable... But he saw no other choice.

"Alastor, you ought to consider staying off the front lines. You are now responsible for the whole of the DMLE."

"When I can't fight any more, go ahead and bury me. But check for polyjuice first."

The news of multiple Death Eater attacks as they were fighting the spiders didn't catch Albus unawares. He and Alastor had a surprise for them, being in multiple places at once with the Time-Turner.

Moody kept talking, but Albus's thoughts were already far away, back in the courtroom. The "removal" of Barty Crouch sprouted an overwhelming initiative to grant amnesty to everyone he had sentenced Azkaban without trial. Meaning everyone Crouch had ever sentenced to Azkaban.

Albus allowed himself some liberties in interpreting the procedural rules and personally checked the minds of all these prisoners. It took a while, but the Time-Turner helped keep everything under wraps.

The results astounded. Seven innocents, the rest imprisoned for a reason. A whole year and a half of active arrests! How, just how was it possible? He'd hired the wrong person to teach Divination… Better search the ruins of Crouch's home for the crystal ball the man was using...

But to be serious, where did it leave him? Justice meant reopening the criminal cases for further investigation. The innocents would agree to Veritaserum and legilimency, be acquitted and released with monetary compensation. But what to do about the guilty? Legilimency and Veritaserum couldn't be court-ordered without a probable cause. They'd simply refuse the tests and be acquitted on the lack of evidence.

Let the guilty walk? Leave everyone, including the innocents, locked up by not reopening their cases? Both decisions were equally legal and equally immoral.

Albus only saw one path: press for a new bill that would mandate all arrested by Bartemius Crouch undergo full mental evaluations and interrogations with Veritaserum. And he would do just that. But it nagged at his conscience. Albus knew he was stepping on very thin ice. As a friend of his liked to say, changing laws was easy. It made sense to give power to the most capable people, people who could determine the truth and set things right. If a law stood in the way of their work, it should be amended. For the greater good. Except following this conviction hadn't led to anything good at all...

* * *

I sat at the head of the table and listened to reports. The situation could be summed up in a single word: failure. We all should have all stayed home and pretended we didn't exist.

No, the fact that the opponents trashed a good portion of our forces didn't make much of a difference. Semi-criminals were abound and easy to recruit, not necessarily in this country. Pity that all the mercenaries Bellatrix hired demanded full payment upfront...

"I made myself clear: keep your heads down. Why did you get involved?"

"Forgive me, my Lord," Mulciber replied, gaze unfocused from some anesthetic spell. "I didn't expect Moody to be there. I was told he was fighting another team."

The hypothesis that Albus and Moody owned Time-Turners got undeniable confirmation.

"Do you need help creating a prosthesis?"

Restoring or transplanting an arm after it had been cut off with Dark magic was beyond my abilities. Luckily, it didn't extend to prosthetics.

"My Lord, I want to do it on my own, so that it may forever serve as a reminder of my mistake!"

But his thoughts said it was stupid to accept an arm from me because it would at best come with surveillance and at worst with a self-destruct mechanism. How perceptive.

Now I only stared at Goyle's body and wondered how a wizard of his caliber got himself killed in a routine operation.

"I told you to keep your heads down," I grumbled to one in particular.

"My Lord," Malfoy began, "he was under concealment, but Moody spotted him. When we found ourselves unable to disapparate, Goyle and the rest stayed behind to cover our retreat."

"There were eleven of you against six of them. Why did you not take Goyle with you?"

"We didn't have the opportunity, my Lord."

You did. But you decided that ensuring your own safety was worth gambling with your servant's life.

"Then why call me after they were already dead? Not only you failed your task, you've lost all your people!"

Yes, that was how it happened. I, having recovered by barely a third, faced off against Moody and five Aurors. It was one of those times when reputation saved me: the Aurors panicked. I slammed them with Fiendfyre, picked up Goyle's body and returned.

"Bellatrix!" I called out, pointing at Malfoy and Crabbe.

"Crucio! Crucio!" she said.

So wonderful to be understood without words.

"I will find you two an assignment to make up for your failure later. Malfoy, set someone to impersonate Goyle in his day-to-day life. We don't want his social circle under scrutiny."

"Yes, my Lord."

By the end of the operation, there were three Moodys and Albuses. One more Moody and Albus duo had been sighted in the London metro and another at the Acromantula nest. Acromantulas... Nearly all perished, as expected. We got left with about a dozen of live ones selected for experiments and a decent number of eggs. But raising them into a viable force would take years...

The bottom line was that we had one dead, one without an arm, one busted. Twenty ordinary soldiers dead or captured. Albus especially outdid himself: stunned twelve in three seconds. And to top it all off, I lost my prison camp. We saved the equipment, but it needed be reassembled and layered with new protections, preferably near someone's family source. No one besides Rosier would volunteer, and his location had already been compromised...

A couple more operations like this, and they'd all start to question whether they need such a master... Then sell me out for immunity from prosecution...

I already took a deep breath to launch into an inspirational speech when Rookwood belatedly stormed into the room.

"My Lord, important news from the Department of Mysteries! I was just there!"

To be fair, such blatant truancy deserved a Crucio. But Rookwood enjoyed special privileges. His high rank at the Department of Mysteries made cover absolute priority. They kept everything classified and scrutinized every absence, so he was free to come to the meetings at his discretion.

"I'm listening."

"The Ministry expanded their wards to stop a Tlahuilopochtli from escaping London! They think it came from your lab!"

I glanced around the room. Nobody's face expressed any understanding at the word "Tlahuilopochtli."

Rookwood took out his wand and conjured a smoky splotch. I scarcely recognized it as our overgrown Boggart.

"Why did they raise so much hell over a Boggart?" Edward asked.

And Rookwood told us. If even half it was true, this thing made a Basilisk look like a garden snake... An immaterial beast that could see the future... Oh, I'd chosen the wrong creature to make into a familiar...

"Rookwood, confirm this. If all of it is true, prepare to capture this Tlahuilopochtli or anything that remains of it. Think of how to house it and whether we can negotiate with it. Macnair, Edward: you will help me try recreating it, after we set up a secure cage."

I'd need to look through every variable used in that Boggart experiment for any unusual additives. It may have simply eaten a unique human...

"My Lord, we are unlikely to capture or transport it unnoticed. Not with the Ministry on high alert."

"Then prepare to catch it once it breaks through their blockade. If its abilities are not exaggerated, it has all the chances. Now, let us get back to more immediate business."

"The last operation may negatively impact our recruiting," Dolohov informed.

Stop rubbing it in, would you?

No matter. We'd find some way to turn a defeat into an advantage. It was nigh time to attack Dumbledore with the most horrible and merciless power on earth: sic lawyers on him.

* * *

 **The French Minister of Magic**

The Minister was listening to the report of his head of foreign intelligence.

"The situation in Britain is looking more and more convoluted. We were unable to get a definite response regarding their government's actions. However, we have no reason to believe Britain is preparing any military action against France."

"The internal intelligence provided much more details," said the Minister, pointing at a thick folder.

"I've said it before and will say it again: two intelligence agencies in one state is redundant."

"A healthy dose of competition is good for any endeavor. Here, review this," he pushed the documents towards his subordinate.

The man flipped the pages for several minutes.

"What is the source of this?"

"A source close to their Dark Lord."

"It's obviously disinformation, Sir."

"It says the London metro is haunted by a Tlahuilopochtli. For what it is, see pages 32-37. Over two dozen muggles have already vanished. The muggles are naturally blaming a serial killer, but even if we found a muggle deserving of death penalty and convinced him to confess, this creature would continue to endanger the Statute. It escaped from their Ministry's Department of Mysteries, the same Ministry that is confirmed to use Dark magic. Next to these developments, the allegation that the Obscurus who destroyed the home of their former Head of the DMLE was Albus Dumbledore's sister no longer sounds so asinine."

"My sources are silent. I believe this is all a lie aimed to end the political blockade on the Death Eaters."

"We mustn't believe anything. We need cold, hard facts! The same source provided us with memories and autopsy reports. Check them for authenticity. There are also copies of some nasty anti-Veela drafts. My wife is a Veela! So what, she may no longer accompany me to Britain? And according to their laws I'm now a zoophile?! Must keep my daughter in a cage? Check everything thoroughly. If it's true..."

"Yes, Sir. What do we do if it is?"

"When the Death Eaters offered to open negotiations two years ago, we declined on the basis that we don't negotiate with terrorists. But if the situation in Britain has truly become this complicated, it is prudent to hear their side of the story."

* * *

 **Corhard Richter**

Corhard Richter was often called the best attorney of Magical Europe. He didn't consider himself the best, but he was certainly one of the very top. Now he lived as a wealthy and respected citizen of Magical Switzerland, the best country in the world.

He never liked reminiscing about his youth. Shortly after he graduated, his father got thrown in prison for life, all their family assets confiscated.

The muggles had it easy. Less than a tenth of the Third Reich got executed. The leaders lived out their days in their mansions, writing bestselling memoirs where they waxed about how they would have won if it weren't for the Russian winter, if they had no issues with African supply lines, if there was no La Manche, if the USA were small and close by like Belgium. Businesses not directly involved in war crimes walked away with nominal fines.

His father was not a murderer. He never supported Grindelwald. He was a simple, law-abiding businessman who earned his fortune trading with Germany in the early 40s. But after the war, he faced inconvenient questions. What happened to the annexed countries' resources? Polish gold reserves? Gold dental crowns from prisoners? However much his father argued that he broke no laws and only conducted business with legally elected government officials, no one wanted to hear it. And in 1945, father got convicted, leaving him to feed their family...

Of course, he was not remembering all this out of the blue. He was looking at the client and thinking of Grindelwald. Feeling the blood drain from his face but still looking. Just in case, decided to bow. He desperately wanted to call security but knew he wouldn't live long enough for them to arrive.

"It is a great honor to see you," he said. "Surely Britain can't be all out of good lawyers?"

Right in his office, in the guest chair sat.. He-Who-Terrorized-the-Magical-Britain.

"Britain has good lawyers. But meeting me turns them inadequate. The first pissed himself and cried hysterically, leaving me no choice but to erase his memories. The second fell to his knees and started confessing his falsified bloodline. The third tried to commit suicide. How am I to work with such candidates?"

"Perhaps you shouldn't have come in person?" he blurted out and immediately regretted it. If newspapers were telling the truth, he too would be better off killing himself.

"Unfortunately, without my presence, they all refuse to take on the case regardless of the money I offer."

"You must know some very special magic to find three principled lawyers. Does no one value money or their life?"

"They do, but no one wants to represent my interests against Albus Dumbledore."

Albus Dumbledore... Without him, Corhard's father would have been released in eight years and kept his estate...

"And business does You-Know-Who have with me?"

"Even You-Know-Who has a right to legal representation. I am offering money. A lot of money. More than you can earn in a lifetime. What's more, I don't necessarily need you to win the case. But the process must be as drawn out and scandalous as possible. And it must begin when I decide."

"May I know the details?"

A client was a client. His crimes didn't incriminate him in Switzerland, everything was legal.

"Watch these memories," You-Know-Who placed two vials on his desk.

It could have been poison, but there were much simpler ways to kill him. He dived into the pensieve and watched a three-way fight between a young Dumbledore, his brother and Grindelwald, which ended with the death of a bystander girl. After adjusting the speed, he noticed that all three used Dark magic, and Dumbledore was the one to kill the girl with the Killing Curse.

Another memory. You-Know-Who opens two caskets and examines the bodies. A woman killed with a curse and that same girl, perfectly preserved.

He returned from the pensieve.

"I understand, milord. Regrettably, the chances are zero. The memories will be extensively tested. In the unlikely scenario they are ruled authentic, you have a distinct reputation… They'd assume you falsified the memories extremely well. I also don't understand what the autopsy of two women has to do with Dumbledore and Grindelwald."

"Richter, the memories are authentic. These women are Dumbledore's mother and sister."

"Of course." It'd take much more than a fake memory or circumventing Veritaserum to dupe him.

"Richter... The memories really are authentic. I have live Aberforth Dumbledore who can testify. The two female corpses are Albus Dumbledore's mother and sister. The mother was killed by a Dark curse long before my birth. I have her body. The second is Albus's sister. She was not human. I have fragments of her body to prove it."

"What was she, then? A werewolf? A vampire? A Valkyrie? They no longer exist, you know, no one would believe it."

"An Obscurial, Richter. An Obscurial. His sister was an uncontrollable threat to the Statute of Secrecy. She was the reason Grindelwald took interest in Obscurials and conducted his most gruesome experiments."

For a moment, he got floored by the absurdity of this situation: the Dark Lord came to him with an offer to put Albus Dumbledore on trial. And he, who loathed Dumbledore, was arguing for the bastard's innocence.

To hell with it all. A client was a client. Even if his labor proved fruitless, it wouldn't go unpaid. He'd make sure to ask for enough to leave the practice for good and move far away from Europe.

As if sensing his agreement, the Dark Lord flashed a creepy smile and put a stack of papers on the desk.

"Here is everything of what I am accusing Albus Dumbledore. Multiple uses of Unforgivables on humans. Murder of his sister. Harboring a dangerous magical creature. Endangering the Statute of Secrecy. Founding and leading a terrorist organization, whose members include known Dark wizards and felons. Abuse of his official position to suppress the investigation of his employee, who was caught butchering humans for ingredients. Framing an innocent investigator whom he later personally sentenced to Azkaban. And this is only the first few pages!"

"Say we prove all that – it won't change anything. He can sit in the Chief Warlock seat all his life. It grants him complete immunity from prosecution."

"Rebellion is the right and duty of the British people. I am certain I can unite all concerned citizens under my banner to overthrow the tyranny of this ruthless usurper."

For a second, Richter's thoughts were in turmoil, and then he understood everything. One man's terrorist was another man's freedom fighter.

He always longed for revenge... If You-Know-Who weaseled into the ICW and got Dumbledore impeached from his posts, his father could receive amnesty... Unlike the British barbarians, they didn't feed prisoners to Dementors here. His father was healthy and had some years left to enjoy freedom...

"Can I count on you to protect me from the terrorists of Order of the Phoenix after I finish my last case?" he asked.

"Of course."

"It'd really help if we found proof of Dumbledore committing some theft or fraud..."

"If it is necessary, then we will find it," You-Know-Who assured.

"And maybe something truly despicable, a child homicide or the like, to rile up the public..."

"You'll have it. Even two."

Outstanding. Why did everyone fear You-Know-Who? He was the definition of a perfect client.

"We will begin with corruption scandals. Dumbledore must have Gringotts accounts."

"You are living up to my most optimistic expectations, Mr. Richter. I must introduce you to one very promising woman, I am sure you will work well together."

"May I know her name?"

Rumors said You-Know-Who had this totally unhinged woman who charged head on at their entire Auror force, and they couldn't kill her. He had no need of such volatile, non-paying friends.

"Rita Skeeter. An accomplished journalist and all-around delightful person. Only for some reason I'm her boggart, and she is so timid... But it doesn't stop her from accepting our money."

Richter took out a bottle of wine and two glasses.

"To the beginning of a successful partnership!" he toasted.

You-Know-Who conjured a glass and filled it with something he brought with him.

"I only drink my own. Occupational hazards, you know. To our successful partnership!"

* * *

I sat down in my study at the Lestranges to read a letter from the goblins. List of the Potters' assets, Lily's inheritance... A fortune for the girl, too little for me... Bill for the goblins' work… I kept pouring over the lists in search of their invisibility cloak and was not finding it.

"Invisibility cloak" was a rather broad term. A cloak charmed by a Hogwarts seventh year might work for a few hours, the charm damaging the material as it wore off. An extraordinary skilled or powerful wizard could create one to last for decades.

Lily's and Wormtail's memories agreed that James used his invisibility cloak for all seven years of Hogwarts. It couldn't have been cheap. Why were the goblins not aware of it? Why did Albus take it? To study an interesting enchantment style?

A while ago, when I brought Snape to the inferi cave, I had thoroughly scoured his mind. Potter and friends bullied him for the majority of their time at Hogwarts. Snape gave as good as he got – fighting multiple opponents sparked his interest in Dark magic. Ever since his fifth year, Snape used spells that should have revealed them under the cloak. But he never got a single glimpse, despite performing the spells correctly... More than that, Hogwarts halls were patrolled by prefects and teachers. As far as Lily and Wormtail knew, no one had ever caught Potter under his cloak... So, Albus either ordered all his staff to close their eyes to Potter and his werewolf friend or the cloak was of extremely high quality... In which case the goblins' lists of Potter heirlooms should have included it...

I felt a switch flip in my head.

"GABY!"

"How can I serve?"

"Bring me _The Natural Elite_! Now!"

I was soon combing through the boring book. The Potters were famous, but I didn't know their exact lineage...

Peverell.

The three brothers who created or obtained the Deathly Hallows... Albus had the wand. I got the stone from the Gaunts, descendants of the middle brother... The tale said that the cloak also went to the owner's descendants... And James's cloak being the legendary invisibility cloak would explain the Potters' artificer roots...

My fingers drummed out a rhythm on the table. Too many "ifs." And it meant Albus had two Hallows out of three. Hopefully he had no Merlin's pants or Necronomicon...

But whether or not Albus actually possessed the invisibility cloak, the idea had merit.

I returned home and took out Skeeter's manuscript from my desk to correct the title. _The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore_ quickly gained a note "Vol 1."

Then I turned to the draft I've been writing myself. It made me want to cry... If it were true, Albus Dumbledore was so horrible that Emeric the Evil, Herpo the Foul and Salazar Slytherin should have been his house elves, and Voldemort and Grindelwald should duel for the privilege of being his follower. But I wasn't an idiot to believe my own propaganda.

I crossed out the working title and wrote a new one: _The Secret Life of Albus Dumbledore: Mansions, Hallows, Horcruxes_. Who could have thought that such an upstanding man was secretly such a scumbag: killed his own sister to make her into a Phoenix-horcrux, stole the Elder Wand from his lover, orchestrated the deaths of his followers to defraud their estates...

The only problem was that no one would agree to publish these books – except maybe for our newly created anti-muggleborn organization, that is, the National Unity Foundation... No matter. In time, people would fervently copy it by hand.

I've had enough of guessing. James was dead, leaving only one person to tell me about his cloak. I had to interrogate Lily. Tomorrow, after resting and thinking what and how to ask her without tipping her off. All opponents must either be dead or ignorant.

I sat down to think and pet Nagini, who landed on my lap. In my previous life, I had a cat. Tom had a snake. Cats were better: cuter, softer, and warmer. Though, unlike snakes, they didn't speak... But in her new body, Nagini was absolutely perfect: chatty, warm, and prettier than any parrot. With a slight force of will, I shifted my perception to feel the world through her senses. The drastic differences in picture, field of view, and everything else felt disorienting. I quickly got bored and returned to my own body. Nagini was still chattering on about something.

" _Master, what do you think_?"

" _Say it again, I got distracted_."

" _If I lay eggs, who will hatch? Do I sit on them?_ "

Yes, spring was in the air. But she did ask an intriguing question. Part Phoenix, part snake... Would it work? Nagini could be the only one of her kind, unable to bear offspring from either snakes or Phoenixes... Not to mention the conflicting instincts: as a phoenix, she should sit on her eggs, as a snake she'd see no point in it. Anywhere I turned, there was the power of love again...

Maybe try eliminating Dumbledore or Moody through seduction? Order Bella or Barty... No, it wouldn't work. They were far too old and wise to fall for such tricks. If they were teens... But I should definitely add the steamy love affair of the Hogwarts Headmaster and the Head of the DMLE to my book. If Dumbledore was Sadomaso von Dom, then Moody better be... What to call him... I got it! Angry Auror Arse-Bandit. Men under his command never turn their back on anyone... And always greet their superior standing up...

But a certain someone could still be seduced.

" _I don't know, Nagini. But we will find out. I have a task for you._ "

" _Master?_ "

" _You are going to seduce someone and lead him into a trap to be killed._ "

As far as I understood, Nagini was mostly a snake, with no instincts to defend her partner.

" _What do I do and how?_ "

" _I just told you what. How... I'm not sure yet_ ," I began. "Gaby! Find me a book on Phoenix mating habits, quickly!"

Poor Fawkes... Love... It kills.

Albus was unlikely to maintain a constant link with his familiar. No sane person would enjoy plucking feathers out of their own behind day after day, and Albus didn't give off the impression of someone interested in emphatically experiencing bird sex. The Phoenix might disapparate or call Albus for help, but it would have no motivation to do so until the very end…

"Master!" the elf squealed. "We don't have this book! Gaby is bad!"

"Search at the Lestranges'!"

I'd have to put together a plan and tell the Lestranges to polish it... Some powerful runic trap to knock out two birds at once. Then finish one of them off... Or kill it in the middle of mating?

Bellatrix walking in interrupted my thoughts.

"My Lord, these idiots ruined everything! Do you want me to punish them more?" She probably meant the last operation.

Why kill everybody? I could have as well ran away to the North Pole as soon as I found myself here.

"Not right now."

"Still thinking about the good of the true wizards? You should rest, my Lord."

She picked up the phoenix like an ordinary house pet and, ignoring the annoyed hissing, plopped her on the window still.

" _Nagini, go to another room,_ " I ordered. She disapparated in a flame.

Bellatrix sat on my lap, and I was fondling her breasts. But thoughts of work did not let up. Blasted Albus and Moody, why couldn't you stand still in front of an Avada? Great wizards my foot! If we fought with fists, I'd easily kill you both! I was no master of hand to hand combat, but a physically healthy man in his thirties or forties would make short work of a one-eyed, one-legged cripple and an ancient grandpa. Although... with Albus, nothing was ever certain... I wouldn't be surprised if he turned out to have been a kung fu master all along... I just wanted to catch these two nuisances and slowly squeeze their necks until a nice, gratifying crack... In reality, I only squeezed Bella's breast too hard.

"I can't spend too much time under Fidelius. Might we go to my rooms?" she offered.

Tempting, but I was busy.

"One second... Bella, step aside, I'm going to use the Time-Turner. It will give us three hours."

I turned the hourglass.

"Too little..." She pouted and pulled me after her.

Evidently, there was going to be one more copy to devote full attention to Bellatrix… Or better, two more. I had to do something to push my new body project forward. Or always drink potions... Strange, she hadn't been this passionate in the past, neither with me nor in Rodolphus's memories. Was it all because of love?

...I should look through Andromeda's memories again. And Narcissa's, with the excuse of breaking their curse. Maybe it ran in their family? Though if it did, their women must resort to sleeping with werewolves. No human male could withstand this rhythm.

Another ridiculous idea pounded at my mind. A pureblood witch was obsessed with Tom Riddle Sr. And another one with his son. A coincidence? I'd think on it later...

* * *

 **Rodolphus Lestrange**

It's been two days since his break up with Bellatrix. The phantom pains waned, but Rodolphus had yet to get out of bed. He drank wine, followed it with an emetic, threw up into a self-cleaning bowl, drank a cocktail of potions, and started over. He'd gone through two barrels in this fashion. If it weren't for the potions, he'd be dead.

There was sharp a knock on the door.

"Go away!" screamed Rodolphus. He always treated house elves well, but lately they were insufferable. He's already developed a bruise on his foot from kicking them out of his room.

"Rodolphus, it's me, can I come in?" He heard his brother's voice from behind the door. Before he had time to get up, it swung open.

"Hello, brother dear. I thought I'd get my charms practice here, unlocking your door. Hope you don't mind."

"Yes, and levitate some feathers while you're at it. What are you, eleven?"

"It's this neat modified unlocking charm..."

"So you would've come in no matter what?"

"Yes. Put on some clothes, would you? What example are you setting for your younger brother? I haven't seen you in your underpants... can't remember for how many years."

"What do you want?" said Rodolphus, emptying the next glass.

"You've got to to wrap up your drinking before father sends me on a quest to find you a new liver. Knowing him, a pureblood one. I also heard alcohol harms virility. Can't forget your duty to the family. But mainly, I wanted to bring you up to date on the latest news. While you were drinking, so much's happened!"

"I've only been drinking for two days. What could possibly happen? Dumbledore died? Grindelwald escaped? Goblins started a rebellion? The Minister became a vampire?"

"Fine imagination. No, it's just little things. Tlahuilopochtli roams around London, the Ministry declared a state of emergency, we had to evacuate the entire concentration camp, the Acromnatula preserve got wiped out, Goyle is dead, Mulciber lost an arm fighting Moody, Avery is on the run..."

"Tlahu-what? Now who's spinning tall tales?" Rodolphus huffed.

"You won't believe it – all true. Tlahuilopochtli isn't a fairy tale. Some of our geniuses went too far with an experiment."

"So, how many did the Lord kill for these grandiose failures?"

"You won't believe it. None."

"How many insane from Cruciatus?"

"None."

Apparently, the Lord has found a new way to relieve stress. Fucking his wife... Rodolphus threw the glass at the wall and started smashing bottles. As the bottles ran out, he calmed down. His marriage... it failed... No point in suffering together when at least one of them could be happy...

"Father is worried you might do something foolish," said Rabastan, unperturbed.

"I won't. Did he send you here?"

"Not exactly."

"How did he take the news of my breakup?"

"He's happy."

"He is not angry with her?"

"What for? It's not like she ripped off your manhood with Dark magic. Father's already made her a property split offer, but she said she doesn't need anything from us. I think father nearly fell in love with her himself. He's now busy sorting stacks of photos of pureblood women by their lineage."

"If he's looking for someone to fuck, I can offer advice."

"You went on a bender at a bad time, brother dear. Father's found himself a special lady – Diana Crouch. Though he hasn't woken her yet. Preparing for the wedding, I wager."

"Why is he searching for a bride for me and not you?" Rodolphus said with annoyance.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe because I'm sober and can make my own choices?"

"I'm serious."

"Don't you remember how the negotiations with the Dutch ended? No one wants to send their daughter where curses are flying."

"Quit dodging. Why is father suddenly concerned with my personal life and not yours?"

"I really don't know. He's been talking to me like I'm a child lately, lecturing about duty... And he often goes down to check Sirius and Andromeda with legilimency. It's like he thinks I'm another blood traitor who'd run away with a muggle the moment he found me a bride."

"No, father would never – he knows he raised us better than that..." Rodolphus began.

"Any toy is okay that keeps the mudbloods away," the brothers recited in unison and burst into laughter.

"So, what else happened while I've been drinking?" Rodolphus changed the subject.

"Eh, nothing earth-shattering. The press caught some Aurors led by Moody in a brothel. Now they're clamoring for Moody to be fired for "immoral conduct" and "failure to uphold professional standards."

"And?"

"And nothing. We are all human, we all get it: they wanted a corporate party. I sure hope Moody had the decency to pay the girls triple and take polyjuice or at least put a bag over his head. Instead of keeping his mouth shut, he screamed that the journalists ruined his operation to apprehend a Death Eater! Right there, in the brothel! What I'd love know is did he do a prostitute together with that Death Eater or they took turns? Skeeter's already whipped up a feature article: "In the Sticky Wake of Sadomaso von Dom." There is an interview with one of the prostitutes, something along the lines of "he was a polite gentleman in colorful clothes, spoke of the power of love and called me "my girl," and when he left, my bum was sore for days."

"Listen, why do I get the feeling you've drank more than I have? Maybe I'm delirious..." said Rodolphus. "Minny! Sobering potion! And a double dose of the Universal Antidote!"

The house elf quickly returned with the potions. Rodolphus drank them. Strange, nothing changed...

Now to intently stare into his brother's eyes. "Fine, I'll bite. What did the Dark Lord order you to tell me?"

"I didn't feel you get through my occlumency..."

"Ha! I never tried. Not magic – deduction. Father would gladly give me time off for all the years of hard work. Bella... Bellatrix... She has other things on her mind, and you... You are a good brother, but you won't stop me from walking into hell if I want to. The only one left is the Dark Lord."

"I had a long talk with him today. He asked about my studies progress and my opinion on the new teacher, a whacked in the head druggie shaman. Look outside your window – there's a half-naked African drawing something and carving things out of wood. If you see little wooden puppets running around, they are his. And Nessie likes him-"

"Back to the subject of the Lord," Rodolphus reminded.

"We talked about this and that. Played backgammon."

"He can play?"

"No."

"You beat the Dark Lord at backgammon?!"

"No, of course not. First of all, he was reading my mind. Second, he moved the dice with telekinesis better than me, always making sure he rolled the highest and I rolled the minimum."

Rodolphus's head started to hurt, and it had nothing to do with hangover. Did he drink in his room for years rather than days? Time to get back to the real world...

"So what does the Dark Lord want from me?" he asked.

"You and I must research..." Rabastan paused in apprehension, "Phoenix mating habits... and assist him in developing a trap... for two mating Phoenixes," his voice cracked with doubt in this mad, mad world.

But Rodolphus understood everything. He had seen the Dark Lord's Phoenix. An excellent plan, eliminate Dumbledore's bird using his own! He was drinking to forget, but to think of it, work was just as good of a distraction.

"The Dark Lord's plan is brilliant! I'll get to it right away," said Rodolphus. He grabbed his wand, haphazardly threw on a robe and rushed out the room.

And Rabastan was thinking. He obviously failed to understand something. Chronically. He picked up one miraculously intact bottle of wine and drank straight from the neck. The Dark Lord's plan didn't become any clearer. Sleeping with Bellatrix must be harmful to mental health...


	44. The Dark Lord and the Ravenclaw Diadem

The next day I rested, but the thoughts of the Hallows didn't let up. They entrenched so deeply in my mind that when I practiced occlumency with the Mirror of Erised, it showed the accursed invisibility cloak.

I decided to visit Lily for a thorough legilimency session and finally get some answers. Potter should have mentioned the cloak at some point in their two years of marriage. Not to waste any more time, I apparated right into her house and found her playing blocks with Harry in the sitting room.

All right, why didn't she flinch this time? It seemed I forgot to remove my concealment...

"Hello, Lily."

"My Lord... this is so unexpected.." She fumbled for words, but her thoughts couldn't be more straightforward: where to hide Harry and what I wanted from them.

"I've come to give you a surprise occlumency exam."

"Mummy, who's this?" Harry ogled me curiously.

"I am your mother's employer," I said, entering the child's mind.

Using legilimency on young children was some treat – on a par with dredging through thoughts of mentally retarded. Everything felt slow and viscous, over-saturated with emotions like sugary syrup. Very few distinct words, but every word triggered a corresponding picture. Since the night I took them in, Harry had matured and started thinking much more coherently.

It'd be easiest to send him to bed. But we were not in the habit of searching for easy ways. To advertise the benefits of legilimency to Lily, I found what the boy wanted right this moment. Following a wave of my wand, the blocks rearranged themselves and started lighting up in tune with a silent rhythm.

What else do you want… A deer?

I sunk a bit deeper. The sight of his father turning into a stag impressed him. It'd be a simple task to transfigure him anything from a toy to a live deer, but Lily might mistake it for me mocking her husband… So, the boy received a heap of plush bears instead. I thought of convincing him they were deer but got bored.

"Tony!" I called.

The elf appeared. As far as I knew, Lily always had him put Harry to bed as soon as I step foot into the house. I was curious why he didn't.

I looked into the creature's eyes. There was not a hint of resistance.

Very interesting. Since Bella no longer trusted the Lestranges' elves, she asked Gaby to help her settle in her new rooms. Gaby left to follow her orders and called Lily's elf to cover the work in my house. But I never gave them any such orders. Gaby must have seen me with Bellatrix, put two and two together and went to cozy up to the new mistress. While working there, they missed my appearance here…

"Go play with the child, the wizards need to talk."

"Yes, Master!" the elf exclaimed excitedly.

I turned to Lily. To my surprise, she was tracing her wand around the toys with scanning charms. Everything returned clear. She then checked the boy. I breathed with silent relief that I stopped before convincing him to see the bears as stags.

Lily's mind buzzed with incredulity from a broken paradigm, complete with an analogy to Hitler breaking into a synagogue and giving out presents to the children.

"My Lord, what did you do to Harry?"

"Checked his thoughts and gave him what he wanted, to make him happy and less motivated to distract us from our lesson."

"It's possible? To read a child's mind and understand what he wants?"

"If there is a mind, legilimency can access it. Lily, it's alright. Leave Harry to his playtime. I need to check your progress."

We walked into another room.

"The usual program: I enter your mind, you resist. Relax, I won't use any excessive force. Ready?"

She nodded.

"Legilimens!"

Strictly speaking, I was not teaching her in good faith. What if she had the talent to fool me like Snape did? I wanted her to learn to stop intruders all the while keeping the fact that she was hiding something glaringly obvious. As with any training, the best results came from practicing on the edge of personal ability, pushing the limit time and time again. What we did here was two laps around the house in place of a marathon.

But she had accomplished much even at this pace. I'd feel confident letting her outside without mind-protecting amulets. She had already learned to sense wandless legilimency and could briefly halt the intruder or look away - unless, of course, it was a mastodon like me or Dumbledore. A very respectable result for four months of work. Defending against conventional legilimency didn't come as easily, but she would hardly miss somebody pointing a wand at her.

I worked gently, taking care not to overwhelm her with energy... Met her shields and retreated, sometimes circumvented or broke them, explaining what she did right or wrong in the process. I always selected neutral memories as targets. Here was our visit to her sister and nephew... That boy looked fatter than Neville! Here was Lily giving orders to her house elf...

I was fully capable of more than one simultaneous attack and usually did just that. While we were watching her mundane memories together, I looked through snippets featuring James, the Order, and Dumbledore - everything not protected by Albus's block.

Like any other mind, it was scattered with trash: sex scenes, fights with her sister... By the way, did Dumbledore have the right to correspond with Petunia? Note to self to check it later... Her sister's husband yelling at the TV over some steroid scandal ... Why did they decry doping in sports? Personally, I'd love to see half-cyborgs pumped full of latest wonders of pharmacology run a hundred meters in a second or throw a javelin across a mile... Toss the idea to Rookwood or Rosier...

Lily never heard of the Hallows. Did she know the Potters' cloak was in any way special?

I rifled for anything related to the cloak. James bragging, James playing with the cloak to amuse Harry... But nothing close to "Lily, this is our top-secret family artifact, drop some of your blood here and here."

The cloak could have easily been a handcrafted gift from his father. They had been, after all, a family of artificers. Or perhaps it truly was the last Hallow. The Potters traced their lineage centuries back, who knew what relics got passed down through generations? Maybe they didn't realize what they had. Or James's father died before telling him...

I refused to give up. To somehow narrow the search area, I looked for memories tied to the invisibility cloak, James, bloodline and secrecy.

And found one, to my own misfortune.

Her seventh year of Hogwarts. Sneaking out after curfew on a date with Potter… Watching the stars from the top of some tower. Wandering around Hogwarts under his cloak. James promising to show her something interesting... On the seventh floor, before them appeared a door.

"Look, Lily! There's so many neat things stashed here!" Potter beamed, toying with some junk.

With gut-wrenching horror, I recognized the room where Tom had hidden the Ravenclaw Diadem.

"What is this place?" asked Lily.

"The house elves call it the Room of Requirement. It's wicked! Watch, it turns into anything I want!"

And I nearly dropped my wand from slackened grip. Tom thought himself so special to have found and opened Ravenclaw's Secret Room that bent reality at his whim... He stashed a horcrux in a room accessible to absolutely everyone!

I looked around for my precious diadem. Could someone have already stolen it?

But they never did much exploring. Potter again professed his love and kissed her. Kissing led to cuddling, cuddling led to stripping, the Room added romantic lighting and a bed...

James, there was this thing called a contraceptive charm. Unless you drank a potion in advance... It was none of my business, in any case. And Lily was a virgin at the time... Well, it explained how I landed here: James, invisibility cloak, blood, secret. Who could have guessed this to be her most fitting memory?

I watched it all at the edge of attention, feeling panic rise from deep within. Tom left a horcrux in a room frequented by droves of house elves and horny students... I thought his defenses at the inferi cave were a grand failure, but this... Two mistakes out of five...

I wasn't a violent person. I avoided Cruciatus whenever possible and only lost it once, while retrieving the Slytherin locket with Snape. But now, that same fury returned. Blazing and all-encompassing. I wanted to kill someone. Anyone. Everyone.

My concentration must have slipped because Lily realized I was watching her first time with James.

"My Lord... It's personal..."

Shut up, ginger cunt! I'm trying to decide here whether to kill you all or a long Cruciatus would do.

Outside of combat, I always tried to follow one simple rule: when faced with an urge to kill, count to ten, then kill; if the urge is unbearable, count to one hundred and don't do it.

What was the point of punishing her? If anything, I should reward her for finding a critical flaw in the horcrux defense! And I had yet to reward her for Horace...

What did I have to fear? If people used that room for sex, they'd be too distracted to look around. The horcrux would hide or defend itself from the rest of the wandering idiots... And if someone smart stumbled in? Smart people obeyed the first commandment of the magical world: no touching strange objects. If school-level diagnostic spells failed to identify something, it was best to stay away… What if Albus came into the room? No, why would he? I had to get the horcrux out as soon as possible...

"My Lord, please stop!"

Lily and I were still watching the same memory on a loop. She did fairly well in her attempts to throw me out, compared to her usual blundering.

"Enough for today," I said, canceling the spell. "You've progressed some but are still lacking. Your enemies will not care what you don't want them to see. Every single one of your memories is a potential weapon against you."

At her nod of understanding, I apparated back home, under Fidelius. Thoughts raced at mad speed. The urge to kill everybody transformed into an overwhelming drive for action. I was genuinely considering storming Hogwarts... But even putting aside the practical difficulties, why? With the horcrux already gone, it would be pointless. With the horcrux still there, it would be rash and excessive. And the possibility of it being stolen right this moment... Minimal at best. No reason to panic. It was most certainly not being stolen right this moment.

But the need for action didn't ease up. I had gotten a record burst of adrenaline.

The last operation still burned fresh in my mind. There was no room for another failure. Such spontaneity belonged in the bedroom, not in a pivotal assault… Now, this was a great idea! It would at least calm me down.

"GABY!" I shouted as if volume made house elves appear faster.

"Master called?"

"Bring me Bellatrix! This instant!"

The house elf disapparated as soon as I said the last word and reappeared with Bella in tow a second later.

"My Lord, are you injured?"

"Everything is fine. I missed you. I want you here and now. Gaby, go away."

"I love you too, Master," she replied.

No, for the first hundred times or so it was amusing to hear her say "Lord" and "Master," but it soon turned grating. It reminded me of work, of constantly watching over my shoulder and weighing my every word just to avoid getting hit with dozens of Avadas at once – in the face by the enemy, in the back by my own. "Master" also conjured up associations with house elves, who didn't fit my criteria of beauty. But Bellatrix wouldn't understand if I told her to drop the honorifics... No need to get busted over details.

"I'd like something different today. Can you quickly turn your hair red and straight?"

Instead of an answer, she dispelled her shields and made two jerky wand gestures. I decided not to say 'let's play Dark Lord and captive mudblood' out loud.

I had a very special kind of woman – one who knew how to wandlessly cast the Cruciatus but not cosmetic charms. I again accidentally glimpsed her thoughts: " _As long as it's not blonde._ " Ever the jealous one...

Now to relax. I overreacted. So much garbage kept coming to mind: collect Lily's memories of masturbating and sell them to Snape...

* * *

Meanwhile, the two house elves chatted about the latest events.

The Dark Lord was a good master, and a house elf could ask for no better fate than pleasing a good master. When Master brought Bellatrix closer, they decided to fulfill her requests as long as they didn't contradict Master's orders.

They just saw Master get into Lily-Elena's head, then immediately run to make love to Bellatrix. Master was a good man, Master was free to do anything he wanted… But to be safe, they agreed to treat Lily-Elena with more respect and to avoid looking Bellatrix in the eyes.

* * *

The next day found me relatively calm, continuing my projects with the Time-Turner and thinking about ghosts.

Ghosts… As far as I understood, the human soul survived for at least a short while after death. It moved on or whatever it was that souls did – dissolved, got reincarnated, or loafed around the void. Very determined wizards who died near a place of power could linger on as ghosts. I had no clue how they persevered in that pathetic imitation of life. Losing all physical sensation, magic and the ability to interact with the world would have driven me insane in less than a decade. It wasn't even a semblance of immortality: ghosts could fade on their own, be deprived of their place of power or simply banished with illegal spells. Or with perfectly legal banshee-banishing ones.

The most intelligible explanation of the ghost phenomenon I found in literature was that a soul suspended between life and death cast a shadow onto the material world. What happened to the soul after the ghost's banishment remained an open question. For all we knew, they moved on like every other soul after death.

I fruitlessly took apart yet another Dementor. How did it extract souls and what did it do with them? My understanding of the soul was fuzzy at best, but the wizards' inability to sacrifice it pointed to immeasurable potential.

Any ordinary wizard could accomplish many interesting things with the life and body of another human at their disposal. It was chilling to imagine the power of sacrificing a soul. A being capable of consuming souls should easily wipe out squads of wizards. The Dementors who had gorged for centuries should have been a global threat to humanity. Yet in reality Dementors didn't show a thousandth of a fraction of power one would expect from a soul eater!

One of the more interesting projects was forcing the Resurrection Stone to work. This latest attempt ended without casualties. Well, almost.

Not finding any proof that the Potters owned the other Hallow was disheartened me, but their relation to the Peverells, Dumbledore's interest in the cloak and the goblin's ignorance of its existence all suggested there was more to it than met the eye. Dumbledore needing this cloak was plenty of reason to steal it. If only I knew how...

However, today was a momentous day. The Ravenclaw Diadem was too perilous to leave lying around, and I planned to retrieve it. The discovery that literally anyone could enter the room made this incredibly simple!

I met with Selwyn and gave his son's house elf a two-way mirror. The elf entered Hogwarts with a perfectly legal and reasonable artifact to watch over her master's son. She then used the mirror to listen to the orders I gave in Selwyn's guise. She reached the seventh floor and entered the Room of Requirement. It took another hour to find the Diadem. Then came the shakiest part of my plan: the elf picked up the diadem with a cloth. If the horcrux put up a fight... the elf would lose. We had no chance to sneak an isolating container into Hogwarts without arousing suspicion.

But the diadem showed no signs of life. It either didn't feel threatened or it too was a wrong sort of horcrux. Not that it would have made a difference to the castle wards, they sensed and probably detained everyone trying to cross them with a Dark artifact...

The house elf focused all her thoughts on finding a safe way out of Hogwarts. Thinking, thinking, thinking... Until a tunnel appeared before her. Hopefully it wouldn't lead into the lake... In the end, the elf emerged in Hogsmeade and apparated straight back to Selwyn. Another house elf walked back into Hogwarts through the same tunnel with a small box.

I'd hate to kill Selwyn, so I had him lie unconscious with disabled sensory organs. It couldn't be helped. I'd bring him back none the worse for wear.

"Drillie, you have done an excellent job. How would you like to become my house elf?" I asked the creature.

"Drillie is only wanting to serve Master Selwyn!"

As you wish. Then we will at once commence the "Dark Lord's most trusted servant" award ceremony. I reinforced the wards against house elf apparition, then simply broke her neck with telekinesis, burned the body and vanished the ashes.

In a short while, the other house elf reached the room and opened the box. It was so very tempting to smuggle in a fission bomb… An explosion from the inside cared nothing for the castle's defenses and space-bending games... But why? It would surely kill everybody except Dumbledore, the exact opposite of what I preferred.

The house elf pulled out a plain cabinet. The newfangled "vanishing cabinet" worked just like the Minoan Sphere. In essence, a permanently coupled portal created without Dark magic. Having to remove all protections and hunch over was a small price to pay to travel undetected.

The two house elves entered and exited through our artifact. No one at Hogwarts raised alarm. Splendid, everything worked as planned!

In another half-hour, I finished cleaning the remaining traces and brought Selwyn back to consciousness.

"Everything worked out perfectly. We have a hidden passageway into Hogwarts. Your three house elves went into the ritual. I will reimburse you double their cost."

Soon, very soon Albus would embark on a scavenger hunt for my "horcruxes." If he doesn't die or receive a fatal injury on the first trip, he'd run into another surprise right at the school. In the meantime, I better get back to the Diadem.

Everything about it seemingly matched the other horcruxes. But something about this particular soul vessel put me on edge.

Ever since Dumbledore denied Tom the Defence teaching post, no one held on to it for longer than a year. Problem was, Tom never cursed anything at Hogwarts. He'd done nothing other than hide a horcrux.

The simplest hypothesis would be Albus deliberately sabotaging the children's education. I refused to believe it. He'd do it in a heartbeat with the Dark Arts, and something about his History of Magic program did smell fishy, but he would never harm a subject he deemed worthy.

Tom knew a great deal about curses. One could curse the Defense classroom, the key that opened it, the paper of the job contract, the quill that signed it. Many things could be cursed, but it was impossible to curse crime and remove the need for law enforcement or curse stupidity and get rid of schools. It was impossible to curse a name, a collective noun, an abstract concept or a collection of sounds- or I would have cursed the Order of the Phoenix. The Taboo charm came close by turning sounds into a protection-piercing beacon, but it would take me the Ministry's resources to set up. Albus was right to tell everybody not to fear the name Voldemort.

Although... He did try to disembody me by name... But even there, the name only guided the spell!

Still, there were facts and consequences. Fact: Tom left a horcrux at Hogwarts when he was denied the Defense teaching job. Consequence: no one kept the job for more than a year ever since. Could the horcrux have done that? More importantly, how to repeat it on Dumbledore?

Let's see what happens to this year's teacher… Albus probably suspected Tom had something to do with this "curse." If the teachers stopped suffering the usual misfortunes, he might assume the underlying cause disappeared... We should remove them every year through the Board of Governors or tragic accidents.

Four out of five Tom's horcruxes were already in my hands. I'd find some use for them sooner or later. They were almost assuredly the smallest pieces of a human soul to ever exist. Muggles once believed atoms to be indivisible. When they split them, they created nuclear weapons. Wizards believed in the indivisibility of the soul. The most erudite knew better. Maybe I too could gain something from this knowledge and studying samples?

One last ex-horcrux left to recover... Well, Alecto was already pregnant. Soon enough, I'd personally deliver Walburga her grandson. For now it was time to get back to work and see how much necroenergy built up from killing a house elf.


	45. Slytherin's Fateful Secret

Again and again I retrieved the spell history from Salazar's wand copy. Every protective spell that referenced specific coordinates went on a map. Once I discovered he used Hogwarts as the starting point, the map of Great Britain gained three new marks where Slytherin had created multiple wards.

One pointed to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I wouldn't set foot anywhere near it.

The second led me to a wild forest. I walked around, cast revealing charms – all to no avail. Maybe it had once been his lab or summer cottage, but now I, Pandora, my shaman and house elves found nothing.

The third site was the most promising of all. At first glance, it appeared to be an ordinary clearing next to a swamp. But when I approached it, something felt off. This area was cursed.

The nearly imperceptible curse enveloped a couple of acres. I heard faint whispers in the wind, felt tingling throughout the body and ever so slight energy drain. It all vanished the moment I stepped outside the curse's range.

Hearing voices was a bad sign even in the magical world. It was foolish to suppose somebody jokingly cursed a patch of land in a way that stumped a Dark Lord. And it didn't end there. I regularly measured my necroenergy levels and noticed an inexplicable jump. I hadn't killed anyone or used Dark magic in over a day... Only visited a swamp...

Pandora saw nothing but insisted it was "an evil place." An uncannily cursed piece of land with no traces of a source of power… If the magical world had Nobel prize, I would have won it.

As the saying went, even a rabid hippogriff is good for some spit. If the whispers bored into my head, they should drive average wizards insane or turn them into a bloody mess. It was worth untangling this curse's structure to adapt it to my own use.

But I couldn't detect it! How to study something undetectable? Observe its effects on test subjects, of course. I sent in a variety: muggles, wizards and werewolves, conscious and not, with and without magical protections. A few hours later I returned only to find them all in the exact same condition as before. Nobody heard any voices, felt any pain or gained any necreoergy.

Muggles had tales of ethnic weapons. Could magic actually accomplish it? Something harmless for one group of people but deadly to another? What were its target criteria? Dark magic users? Specific genes?

I wanted to throw in the towel and leave it be, but a curse that affected me exclusively was too concerning. What if Albus learned its workings?

Tom had some experience in curse breaking from his days at Borgin and Burke's, but this here was no cursed antique. He had run into the combination of voices and magic drain only once, when removing the Lestranges' family curse.

To throw away the irrelevant fillers, that curse worked fairly simply: their magic source provided progressively less to every family member. It became especially noticeable over the past two generations, when the effects escalated to phantom whispers and constant pain. The whispers then grew into distinct voices. Everything the Lestranges had tried to fix it failed.

When Edward's wife committed suicide and his parents and grandparents all died from the same "neurogenic shock" diagnosis, he knew that the curse had to be removed by any means possible. A hypothetical Dementor's kiss was infinitely preferable to certain agonizing death. And so, he asked his school friend Tom Riddle for help.

Through trial and error, they found that certain rituals reduced the symptoms. Dozens of corpses and broken minds later, everything stopped. The Lestranges' curse had been lifted. Or at the very least stopped affecting them.

Tom Riddle was a great wizard, but he reminded me of a seventeenth century Dutch shipwright – yes, they had mighty ships, but they built by eye when the British were already using draftsmen. Tom solved the problem without ever establishing its cause. Yet another sliced Gordian knot.

I struggled to understand how an entire family could be cursed. No, cursing a bloodline was perfectly doable. But that didn't explain the death of Edward's wife, who was not a Lestrange by blood. A sexually transmitted curse? I could do that too, albeit with a limit on the number of people it would jump before running out of juice. Problem was, the Lestranges had also lost a magically adopted infant to the curse. I knew for a fact that no one slept with him.

I scoured through books looking for common threads, for any mention of entire families hearing voices. The same picture emerged over and over: a once powerful Dark family dies out when the descendants go insane or denounce their blood.

I only had one outlandish explanation: someone, somewhere had found a way to curse a magic source. Then, every family member received an ever-intensifying curse, akin to daily drinking from a poisoned well. Breaking it was as simple as cutting all family ties and running away.

Whoever created this deserved admiration. A perfect weapon against old families! The instances popped up in different countries throughout many centuries and were incredibly rare. Many predated Flamel. I could blame it all on "the Order of Death," but it was unlikely that simple.

The most puzzling spells I pulled out from Slytherin's wand all dealt with magic sources. Since I didn't have one of my own, I just recorded them and moved on. Now I took a closer look. They ranged from clunky to brilliant, the only common thread being Dark magic and human sacrifice near the source. Barring the thought of an exotic hobby, what had he done and why?

I stared at the reconstructed ritual schemes, recalling what Edward and I had done to break the Lestranges' family curse. In principle, some of those rituals canceled out Salazar's efforts... But he wouldn't have spent years deliberately cursing his own family, would he?

I stood next to Edward, looking at the Lestrange family source – a fountain of magic pushing against a nondescript slab of basalt. What could a wizard possibly do with one? Channel it to attack enemies, power the wards... No, that wasn't it, none of that required Dark magic.

A source helped replenish the family members' magic. Force it to share more? No, that wasn't it, either. Forcing too much magic through a person would quickly leave them a burned out invalid.

There was one more option. One Tom knew nothing about: necroenergy. How great would it be to force a source to absorb more, leaving you free to kill and torture to your heart's content!

I had already tried using necroenergy to cast spells and forcing others to do it. Tried funneling it into humans, undead, accumulator stones, artifacts, Dementors and unicorns. Tried to craft a specialized accumulator. All for naught. I could not sense or manipulate it. The only option I hadn't tried was directing it into a source. In hindsight, it made perfect sense: if it accumulated in wizards, why wouldn't it do the same in magic sources that were for all intents and purposes wizards with no body or mind?

Was it possible that Slytherin knew about necroenergy? Absolutely. Back then, laws didn't discriminate against Dark magic, yet Slytherin stayed sane remarkably long for a Dark wizard of his reputation. He didn't get kicked out of Hogwarts for experiments on children of questionable blood until the very end of his life. Could he have done something to his family source to increase its necrenergy absorption? Absolutely.

It would also explain his bigotry. If he believed that draining necroenergy into a source solved all problems with Dark magic, he truly had no use for muggleborns. The rest of the Founders must have taken a more modern approach, limiting Dark magic or denouncing it altogether. Of course purebloods would resent the policies that demonized their inborn advantage.

Whatever Salazar had done, it inspired copycats. Maybe his students, maybe enemies who analyzed his spell work. Or someone put his wand through reverse spell like I had. Some didn't know what they were doing, some believed they would be dead before any negative effects appeared. But they all got a surprise: the consequences struck not their person but their family source. Quite a gift for the descendants.

The Lestranges… They toyed with Dark magic and probably attempted something similar on a much smaller scale. There must be some "critical level" of this necroenergy for both humans and their family sources that caused negative effects.

I asked Edward to bring me parchment and some artifacts to help with calculations. We drew runes with his blood around the basalt slab. After a day of subjective time, the answer was ready: the speeds a source was absorbing and processing necroenergy were constant. And by default, they were equal.

As I now understood, the rituals we had conducted temporarily inverted their connection, forcing their source to pour excess Dark magic waste back into the three surviving Lestranges. It returned to below critical level in a few peaceful years and started working properly. Sonthe stereotype of purebloods torturing for fun and performing daily human sacrifice was an outright lie. Mostly. The Lestranges, at least, had done nothing to deserve prison before that incident.

It was probably not a good idea to tell purebloods they cursed themselves…

The important question was, what do I do with all this?

Yes, I had found Slytherin's home. As soon as I stepped foot there, it reached out to me bestow his generous heritage with a free bonus of pain and voices. The feeling I interpreted as pressure and magic drain was the source's desperate attempts to absorb necroenergy. Since it was already full, it pulled what it could: magic from me and my charms.

Accepting such a legacy was nothing short of convoluted suicide. I felt like a hero of post-apocalyptic science fiction, where instead of a beautiful blue planet I inherited a steaming pile of trash. It would be easiest to forget it like a bad dream. But the prize beckoned, and an opportunity to research necroenergy was too tempting to pass up.

The curse's effects didn't afford me the luxury of time to spend on research. I wouldn't dare step near it again until I know exactly what to do... So how could I practice without risking my own neck? Find another tainted source! In other words, a "cursed family."

...The Malfoys? No, theirs was a bloodline curse.

The Blacks? Very possible. It would explain their "eccentricities" and the young generation's drive to ditch their kin or commit a heroic suicide. But the Blacks were not yet accessible, and neither Sirius nor Andromeda showed any symptoms.

People rarely divulged their family weaknesses, but I had heard of one line recently destroyed by a "horrific hereditary curse." The Princes.

I snatched Snape after his training with Lily and took him to the remains of his ancestral home. Wizards had long since erased all of its traces in the name of the Statute. It was now a muggle village.

As we walked disillusioned, I tried to use legilimency on Snape. He put up no resistance, but knowing him, it meant nothing.

"Your mother's family once lived here. Does this place stir any feelings?"

They likely lost the family place of power to their ancestors' games with Dark magic. By the time Snape's mother thought to run, she must have already suffered irreparable damage. The funny part was, she probably believed that fleeing the magical world saved her.

"No, my Lord."

If he was affected in the same way, he must experience the same symptoms. I thought of walking around with him and then measuring his necrenergy, but then Albus might notice...

"Do you not regret that muggles stomp over the remains of your family legacy?" I persisted.

"I have never laid my eyes on that house, my Lord."

"Do you feel any impact on yourself or your protective charms?"

"No, my Lord."

And again I sensed no lie. Except, I had excellent magical sight and was watching Snape through a myriad of detection charms. His protections were getting drained. By a negligible amount, but they were nonetheless. And if he had this symptom, he was bound to have the rest.

"Crucio! I am a powerful legilimens, Severus. Quit lying. Apart from magic drain, do you feel slight prickling pain throughout your body?"

"Yes... Forgive me for trying to lie... I am exhausted from training Elena and didn't want to complain..."

"Is there anything else you wish to tell me?"

"No, milord."

Not a hint of dishonesty. I had grown so reliant on legilimency, so easy to deceive without it...

"Crucio! Severus, hearing voices is never a good sign. If your level of occlumency can't block it, the situation is grave. I understand your reluctance – what use does the Dark Lord have for a rambling lunatic? But you never need to lie to me. You are not insane. This site is suffering from the Prince family curse."

"I've- I've been here before… Shortly after graduating... It felt the same then. I resolved to never return,' Snape stammered out his explanation.

"A wise decision. But I am afraid the curse will continue spreading until it reaches you, just as it did your mother. You have no escape. And don't bother asking Albus, this is beyond his abilities."

"Milord?"

"I am going to help you again. On credit."

My plan came down to practicing curse breaking. Once I hone the method, I'd remove the curse from the Slytherin source – that is, force it to filter the excess necroenergy within, then check on it in a decade or so. And the Princes' one.. What did it matter? It might perish for good or stay the same. Snape's mother had renounced her heritage before his conception, so it didn't affect him one way or the other. The key point was keeping Albus from suspecting him. But it wasn't as if I planned on butchering people right here!

"What is required of me?" he asked.

"Hardly anything. Ingredients for creating homunculi."

"You could have taken them without my consent."

"Obviously. But Severus, to achieve the best results you must kill your homunculi yourself. And besides, this will mark the beginning of your lessons. Are your ready?"

I had a thought – maybe Slytherin planned to unload necroneregy into Hogwarts, to redistribute it among the children? But it failed, and he went down in history as one of the Founders... In any case, working alongside Snape needed utmost caution. I didn't mind sharing the knowledge of homunculi, but necroenergy was top secret. As for cultivating my image of a charitable mentor... teach him a few highly lethal combat spells, in case Albus ever let his guard down...

"Yes, my Lord."

You have no idea what you signed up for.

"Let your loyalty never waver,' I said with maximum pathos.

I'd gain my own testing grounds, and Snape would owe me for training him. My student... Albus constantly pestered him for inside information. He'd get his wish. As Snape would soon report, the Lord took interest in homunculi and forced the poor potions professor to assist. Why? Gosh, I don't know, Albus. Maybe because Voldemort is a murder-happy psychopath? Developing new heinous tortures for Horace Slughorn and Aberforth Dumbledore?

What would the court say to the evidence of an Order member experimenting with homunculi? And Albus Dumbledore defended him!


	46. A Day in the Life of Alastor Moody

Sitting around waiting for someone to make an attempt on your life felt worse than a splinter up your arse. But he was Alastor Moody. Someone always wanted to kill him, and hoping for today to be an exception would be in vain.

Albus was lucky to be a formidable wizard. Everyone feared tangling with him. If they tried, any attacks got bogged in his shields. Alastor Moody was just a decent wizard whom people wanted dead. And as his scars attested, they occasionally came close to succeeding.

The promotion to lead the DMLE took him by surprise. He always commanded special operations, convinced he'd only leave the Auror Office for a desk job if he lost all protruding body parts and control of prostheses. But he was more than willing to endure it for a personal Time-Turner.

One Alastor Moody sat in his office, shuffling administrative papers and chewing out his subordinates. For heaven's sake, a muggle could do this job!

The only part that worried him was the department's defense system. One one hand, a defense system must be in place. But what if the enemy seized control of it? Then, it needed an emergency shut off switch. But what if the enemy reached the switch? Alastor agonized over this problem for weeks. It was one of the hardest decisions of his life. Eventually, he settled on the only passable solution: tie everything to a single artifact and personally give it to Albus, asking to always carry it with him.

The second Alastor Moody was conducting a never-ending series of drills. Everyone must always be ready to repel an enemy attack! Leave no room for a diversion, especially not a diversion by a known scenario! All conceivable scenarios must be rehearsed!

And no whining! So what if he sneaked into the Auror bathrooms disillusioned and stunned everybody? No one expected them to win without wands or pre-applied charms, but they should have at least landed one measly hit or raised alarm! Even worse, the women managed to get him charged with sexual harassment! You are no longer women, you are now Aurors! Constant vigilance!

To be fair, the rookies did have a few redeeming qualities. His artificial eye saw through clothes that haven't been charmed to the standards of Auror and Death Eater uniforms. So, he easily told apart candidates with a brain from the rest. People with a brain wore non-transparent clothes. It reduced most of the interviews he conducted to a single glance. And the rejects had the nerve to act offended when he instantly showed them the door!

The third Alastor Moody was testing imbeciles and teaching the next generation. They all regularly filed complaints about his "cruel treatment." What cruel treatment, were they insane? If Alastor didn't rough them up, Death Eaters would. No one forbade them from defending themselves! Unforgivables? Lies! The only one he ever used was the Imperius, during the Imperius resistance training mandatory for every Auror. No torture: got distracted - eat a stunner. Managed to dodge, deflect and counterattack? Good job. Didn't manage? Take a nap on the floor till the end of your class. The sorry excuse that you were supposed to pay attention to the teacher while Alastor crept up from behind under an invisibility cloak was your problem alone. Though after one of them fell into a boiling cauldron, Alastor stopped running drills in potions classes.

This was the Auror Department, not Hogwarts where they wiped your snot. Don't like it? Don't let the door hit you on your way out. No one forced you to join. Oh, boo-hoo, Moody hurt you with Dark magic? Only during the final year's full-contact sparring and exams! He always minded his power, else no one but Kingsley would have graduated alive.

And these "accelerants"... Bloody hell, their program was cut so much that he wouldn't trust them with containing a house elf revolt!

Alastor didn't need legilimency to know that nobody liked him. He did his duty, and people hated him for it – enemies and friends alike. But he never thought of relenting. The Auror Department already had a sprawling cemetery, and he'd be damned if he didn't do his best to stop it from growing.

The fourth Alastor Moody was holding the perimeter around the metro. When was this damned Tlahuilopochtli going to make a break for it? They were all dying from boredom here! Alastor could hardly wait to stick the pieces of its smoky corpse into crystal balls and give them out to everybody who called him paranoid. They'd be his constant vigilance trophies. Too bad Albus had banned him from running drills with "look out, Tlahuilopochtli on your right!" What are you gawking at, whelps? Go search for its nest and don't come back until you find a dozen of its babies! Or sparring!

The fifth Alastor Moody was reading and training. That smoky blob from the metro won't know what hit it! He was also considering what parts of this book could be squeezed into the Auror and Order training programs. For instance, the sea serpent that swallowed a Chinese fleet in the 14th century. Even if it was considered a myth.

The sixth Alastor Moody was having fun. What could be better than running around emergency summonses with a competent team? That banshee was exceptionally mean... Did Voldemort molest her or something?

And the werewolves… Something was decidedly wrong here. They killed more werewolves in the past six months than should exist in the whole of Magical Britain! Alastor had already punched the chair of the census committee in the face and threatened to fire him. Learn to count, arsehole! Albus pushed his usual line, insisting they take the werewolves alive. They already did, in one-on-one fights. But getting swarmed with a dozen wolves on a full moon? He wrote Albus a response: "Kindly supply every Auror with an Elder Wand."

The seventh Alastor Moody was training rookies from the Order of the Phoenix. Where were the Longbottoms? Podmore? Vance? How dare they die before Voldemort! Almost no decent fighters left...

The eighth Moody was reviewing special op plans. If the plans didn't survive contact with the enemy, so be it. They might come handy later.

The ninth Moody was indulging in his favorite hobby: investigating muggle murders and patrolling incognito. Lately, many unsolved cases had Death Eaters behind them.

A trail of suspicious magic led him to a muggle residential neighborhood. He briefly thought to call for reinforcements, but not every empty fart deserved reinforcements! Per protocol, he had to at least notify the Auror Office of his location, so they'd know where to send backup or search for his body. But he didn't trust anybody. The Death Eaters' agents were everywhere! He didn't even trust Albus's Phoenix!

After a thorough scan, he entered the suspect house. Inside he found an unconscious woman with a delayed curse and distinct traces of recent apparition. A blatant trap. This meant he could partake in his second favorite hobby: live baiting.

But first, test for the presence of muggle explosives. Sure, no bomb would kill him... unless it was filled with goblin blades in place of shrapnel like last time. Test for poisonous gases, radiation and the rest... Walk in, taking care not to stand under the chandelier. The bulbs could be filled with something highly flammable, like last month. Even though all scanning spells returned clear, this chandelier unsettled him... It could easily be a disguised battle golem, like four days ago. Blast it with something from here? No, then he'd lose his cover and the element of surprise...

Everybody called Moody paranoid. He was not paranoid. Strange and dangerous things always had a way of finding him, even when he worked under polyjuice in the muggle world.

A few days ago, someone tried to run him over with a truck. Out of nowhere, a speeding truck swerved, jumped over the curb and nearly smashed him into a wall. He jumped aside at the last moment by pure miracle. The inner side of the bumper was covered in very nasty runes, and the driver's empty gaze left no doubts about outside control.

Another time, he met an unpleasant trio of muggles – one with a knife, two with lead pipes. Interestingly enough, they didn't bother with simple pleasantries of asking for his wallet and got straight to business. Alastor disapparated the moment he noticed unusual grayish haze surrounding their bodies, so the explosion didn't reach him.

He always scrupulously checked all mail outside of his warded home. But he never expected the owl itself to be the bomb… Blew off half of the protections...

Just yesterday, he wanted to arrive at a crime scene stealthily and took a cab under polyjuice. The muggle driver attacked him with a goblin sword…

Life used to be such a breeze... Idiots would try to AK him from extra-long distances. Idiots! The curse flew slowly, glowing and whistling at subsonic speed. He needed no legs or magic to duck.

Now they regularly tried to snipe him with muggle weapons. It began with ordinary bullets soaked in dragon blood. Then they switched to moonstone but soon gave up on sniper rifles altogether. The latest attempt was much more impressive: a charmed anti-tank missile. That one jolted him a good bit. Apparently, there were muggle-loving Death Eaters. Or was it Weasley fucking around under Imperius? Who'd have thought the henpecked whelp was so talented?

All of that naturally attracted swarms of Unspeakables, who ran off with the evidence. The Unspeakables... Damned wankers who couldn't tell a woman's tit apart from a quaffle because they never touched either in their life! What were they doing in their Department of Mysteries? Where was the superweapon against Voldemort? Aastor only forgave them after the Time-Turner. Almost.

How did the enemy keep tracking him? He had already given up the services of secretaries and house elves! He sincerely suspected the Ministry's interdepartmental memos in espionage. After receiving an upgraded clearance, he read a number of highly classified books. There was a curse that masqueraded as the victim's shadow! He took care of that one by periodically casting Finite at his shadow ever since. Constant vigilance!

Alastor stood frozen, debating what to do about the chandelier. In the end, he tried a simple vanishing spell. The chandelier ceased to exist. Then it was not the culprit. He gave the rug and wallpaper patterns one final look-over. No, clean as well. Check the pipes and wiring underground... It was now safe to approach the unconscious woman.

What happened next, he never expected. Right in the middle of the hall, on top of the body, appeared an astoundingly large cerberus. It got delivered with a plain portkey – a disk the middle head held in its mouth. Each neck wore a collar. One blocked communications, the second blocked all magical travel, and the third appeared to be a powerful defensive artifact... Again like that time with the chimera...

He immediately sent out a message requesting backup and tried to disapparate. When that failed, he reflexively showered the beast with stunners. Zero effect. A ramming charm threw it back but did no harm.

Alastor Moody was a multifaceted specialist. He knew the three-headed dogs swiftly fell asleep from music, so he started to sing the only song he remembered: the Hogwarts hymn. But this beast didn't slow down one bit. Still singing, Alastor went back in the offensive.

The Head Auror before him had been a wise, competent man. He loved repeating that the forehead of every living creature had a weak spot at the intersection of two lines: from the left ear to the right eye, and from the right ear to the left eye. One hard strike right above this point guaranteed brain death. The late Head Auror was great at killing.

Having made a quick estimate, Alastor aimed a mountain excavating charm at the middle head. Repeat it twice more, and the dog should be ready for the butcher's table. But either due to the protective collar or its sheer body size, the attack did nothing more than break some skin. The creature reeled back, shook its bleeding head, and charged at him with a low growl.

With no room to dodge, he transfigured the nails on his left hand to pierce the palm and sprung up a blood shield. More blood spurred forth into a whip. A few skilled swings took out the cerberus's eyes – all six of them. Yet the beast continued to press against the blood shield with the same vigor and sensed him without eyes – by sound, smell, or perhaps magic itself.

"Avada Kedavra! Avada Kedavra! Avada Kedavra!" Alastor rattled off as fast as he could.

Each head went limp only to rise up less than a second later. And pulling off three Killing Curses in a fraction of a second would take Voldemort…

Cruciatus overwhelmed one head but only angered the other two. Imperius didn't take, as expected with such a powerful magical creature.

Alastor's mentor had also taught him an excellent tactic for wrangling large, sharp-toothed beasts: hook them by the flesh on both sides of the neck, right under the jaw. He morphed the whip into a bizarre parody of tentacles. The new whip-hands lashed forward. He braced for the impact, trying to keep balance while latching onto a gigantic, heavy magical creature in the middle of a jump. It was going to be alright, his protections included inertia dampening… Alastor's imagination flashed with a chilling picture of chewed off arms, but he nonetheless managed to hook each head under a chin and strangle the middle one. The captured cerberus jerked up, heads smashing into the ceiling.

The sound filtration charms helpfully notified that they just saved him from a world of pain – the beast roared and snapped its slobbering jaws on empty air less than a foot from his face. In this very moment, Alastor suddenly realized he had no idea what to do next.

And so they stood there at impasse: a crippled Auror and a giant cerberus that couldn't fully stand up on its hind legs because its heads were pressing against the ceiling.

Moody didn't give up. He continued throwing cutting charms at the dog's stomach and necks. The heads wouldn't sever, and leaving it unable to procreate was a hardly a consolation. The beast was bleeding out but still had all the chances to outlive him.

He fought off the temptation to send another blood cord at the gut. A branched blood whip was an Azkaban-level accomplishment, and he would only get one chance to eviscerate the dog before its teeth closed on his head.

Unable to come up with anything better, he threw two spears at the cerberus's heart. The beast recoiled but had no intention of dying – at least not right away. It was twisting out of the grip, trying to bite through the blood ropes. Alsastor promptly turned the blood into acid right in the creature's mouths and threw it back, dispelling his improvised "whip hands."

The beast did a backflip, slammed into a wall and made a sound halfway between a moan and a growl as it crashed to the floor.

Alastor had time to shatter the bones of its right leg before the beast got up quicker than should be possible. It tucked the wounded paw and roared, glaring at him with empty sockets. While the beast was raging, it suffered a dozen more spells that added up to life in Azkaban. It broke out in boils, wounds and tumors, looking like a zombie dog. This time, it finally slowed down.

Perhaps Alastor could have finished it off with standard methods, but he refused to take the risk. Feeling faint from blood loss, he blasted the dog into the far corner and conjured a gaping dark fissure under it.

To the naked eye, it appeared that a blotch of black mud burst forth and dissolved part of the floor. A much larger blotch than he had envisioned – precisely the reason why doing this in close quarters was a terrible idea. Magical sight showed some... incomprehensible chaos.

The cerberus sank into the puddle and let out a blood-curdling howl. It stubbornly tried to crawl even as its legs were melting into stumps. Alastor added a couple of ramming charms from above to force the heads down. They too started to dissolve as soon as they touched the blackness. The cerberus was defeated.

Not bad for an assassination attempt.

But for Moody, everything was just beginning.

"You are surrounded! Surrender!" He heard the voices of his own subordinates outside.

Fighting them all was a lost cause... Not to mention they might call his past self for backup! This house got drenched in so much Dark magic that no one would believe that he was not a disguised Death Eater. Alastor should know, he trained them himself.

Although, if the collars dissolved along with the beast... The solution clicked into place.

"Don't come in! I have hostages!" he screamed in a changed voice while trying to contact Albus.

No assault came. Within minutes, Albus's figure silently materialized out of thin air.

"And what is this meant to be? Another test of vigilance?" asked the alleged Albus. Luckily they had a way to verify each other's identities.

"What did I do to the Japanese ambassador's wife four years ago?" Alastor probed him.

"You thought a test of vigilance was in order," the man replied wearily, "so you rearranged the embroidery on her dress into two hieroglyphs. She walked out to an official dinner with the word "cheap" over one breast and "delicious" over the other. A scandal ensued."

"Good. Your turn, Albus. You check me now," he ordered.

"Tell me about case 5418A."

"What's there to tell? We handed those frogs' and krauts' arses to them on a silver platter. With almost no losses! And it doesn't count, everyone with halfway decent clearance knows about this."

"Yes, but only you would put it like that. What happened here?" said Albus, removing the curse from the woman.

"Bastards. I went in expecting a regular operation and ended up fighting a cerberus. It wouldn't fall asleep with music, probably deaf from Dark magic. Forced me to go all out. They wanted to sic me on my own people and myself from a different time stream. Finally something new! I was getting tired of turning in exotic poisons to the Unspeakables."

"Be careful, Alastor. I will tell them the hostage is safe and send everybody back in a moment. Who is this woman? Is there a reason they chose her?"

"A muggle. I'll check her memories."

In two hours, after tying all the loose ends, Alastor turned his full attention to the case that almost cornered him. The muggle woman appeared unconnected. Her lover, however, was a hot lead. Alastor's people had already investigated this buffoon in the past and found nothing. But he knew their negligence firsthand. Bloody idiots. He had to do everything himself.

The suspect was a relatively famous local artist, a womanizing junkie with a hobby of organizing occult-themed orgies to gain "mythical powers." Prime Azkaban material, except this one wasn't a wizard or a squib. Just a muggle fickwit. The Aurors filed him under potential danger to the Statute – in reality, as a potential scapegoat for something paranormal. Until then, he was the muggles' problem to sort out.

Alastor knocked on the suspect's door.

"Who's there?" a male voice asked.

"I'm here to buy your paintings!" he replied.

"Come back tomorrow! It's my day off!"

Well, it was not Alastor's. One charm to unlock the door, another to freeze the muggle in place, legilimency – and he was all prepped to begin the interrogation.

In thirty minutes, he learned the lead was a dead end. Nothing but a common loon who heard voices promise him power for consensual ceremonial sex. While not the best example of humankind, he had done nothing worthy of arrest. Hell, he wasn't even under wizarding jurisdiction.

Once the man got his helping of Obliviate and went to bed, Alastor set out to search the flat. The muggle could have been used unwittingly. He'd scan every last piece of junk to be sure!

In another hour, Alastor discovered that the muggle was decent at painting much more than nude darlings. He especially admired one picture of a serene clearing. So lovely that he just wanted to reach out and run his fingers across the gently rustling leaves...

Fuck that. He wasn't going to touch anything. It could be cursed. But it looked so enticing...

Alastor violently shook his head, then cast a cleansing charm on himself. The fog faded from his mind. He began shooting out diagnostic spells. Clear, clear, clear… Although… This lovely piece was cursed. Solely against wizards.

That was it, he learned enough. Time to call for backup and carefully seal the scene.

Two hours later, he sat down in Albus's office to give his weekly report.

"Alastor, your results continue to… impress. Recruiting. Training. Planning. Assignments based on everybody's strong suits. Low casualties. Despite your reputation, you go out of your way to protect people… If only you took the same care of yourself… However, your methods…" Albus trailed off.

Alastor rolled his eyes. "What did I do wrong now, Albus?"

"You had no right to break into that muggle's home. No right to erase his memories."

"I'm the head of the DMLE. I can sign my own warrants. I uncovered the Death Eaters' treacherous plots! They wanted to assassinate me with a cerberus, then fool me into attacking myself! They know my meticulousness, they know I would search the house from top to bottom, so they cursed that whore's painting! And the idiots on duty missed it! A thousand extra hours of guard duty, all of them! I'm the only reason they are still breathing!"

"I know. I would gladly close my eyes to this incident, but it is far from the only one." Albus pulled out a folder and shook it in front of Moody's face. "Alastor, this is an official complaint about you. Seventeenth this week! Rita Skeeter claims you threw her out of a window."

"It's not my job to teach her manners! Too bad she didn't die! The bitch jumped out on her own!"

"And if we are being serious?"

"Look, here is the warrant. I was waiting in ambush for Sadomaso von Dom, but she dragged in a gaggle of journalists! She works for Voldemort! I was removing an obstacle in my operation. As a veteran Auror, I know that the best spell for removing human obstacles is "Legilimens." She chose to jump out of the window to break eye contact!"

"Strange," said Albus, studying the warrant, "you usually make a fool of yourself first, then cover for it with paperwork. The signature and stamp here came before the incident...How did you do it?"

"Albus, you gave me a Time-Turner yourself."

"I see. Very well, we can skip the complaints from your subordinates and students for now… Alastor, mind your use of Dark magic."

"Oh, here we go again! What do you want me to do, let them kill me? I won't live long enough to lose it! I don't perform Dark rituals, I don't sacrifice people! Until I start torturing trainees with Cruciatus, I'm completely fine. Don't you dare send me into retirement while Voldemort is still sullying the earth!"

There was a moment of awkward silence.

This whole deal with Dark magic reeked of shit. It reminded Alastor of the tale about a man who accidentally swallowed a poison with no antidote. The man consulted a textbook he wrote himself some years ago and saw that the dose was lethal. Then he checked the book by his rival poison expert. According to it, he took less than the lethal dose. All he could do was pray he was the one in the wrong.

"Better tell me your verdict on the painting," Alastor changed the subject.

"A quality curse. It is inactive now."

Albus pulled the cloth off the painting in the corner. It depicted a grassy glade basking in sunlight and a part of something bright shining near the right edge. Albus pointed his wand at the painting, leaned in to breathe on the surface, then flicked it with his nail. The painting rang like a glass chime and came to life. The shadows stirred and pulsed as night gradually came over the landscape. Albus glided his hand over the surface, and the image reverted to the static sunny clearing.

"It drains the victim to turn the image increasingly more vivid. You would have died from magical exhaustion. Some delicate craftsmanship… It will be studied and destroyed. But let us return to the subject of your work."

"What is it this time?"

"Are you aware of how many search warrants you have signed?"

"I didn't count. Not enough, clearly."

"You've issued warrants for every old pureblood family. Including Susan Bones, whose relatives died fighting Death Eaters. Susan is three years old."

"We must check them all, Albus. Everyone is a suspect. There are no innocents, only degrees of guilt."

"How do you intend to search the Blacks? Their house is impenetrable and unplottable. There is nothing more foolish than giving impossible orders."

"That stinking hag should be arrested as it is! She ignored a summons for her son's case and never answered a single letter!"

"You will accomplish nothing but a repeat of the Malfoy case. Do you _want_ to get sued again? But forget about the old families for a moment. You've issued search warrants for every non-muggleborn witch and wizard in Britain! Including children!"

"It is the right thing to do!"

"It means you must search and arrest yourself! Alastor, Britain is not split by blood purity! With that reasoning, the Weasleys support Voldemort! And Andromeda Tonks! Brave people fighting for their children's future! And as if that wasn't enough, you wrote warrants for every magically protected building. Including embassies! You have no rights on foreign soil!"

"I don't see the problem," huffed Alastor, crossing his arms.

"I do. That is, aside from the fact that it effectively declares multiple wars. Four years, Alastor. It would take the entire Auror force four years to search them all. Working with no breaks, eating or sleeping. In the meantime, they would move banned items from house to house. Your job is to refine the search, not widen it!"

"Well, we've got to start somewhere!"

"Yes, we do. That's why your people started with the most protected house in Britain – mine! You are lucky they fell unconscious from the first few charms!"

"Heh, whelps. I thought they'd at least make it halfway."

"Alastor, this is no laughing matter. Rescind your warrants. Now."

"Can I still sign new ones?"

"Yes. After I approve them. Don't bring me any without evidence."

"Albus, for old time's sake... Ten search warrants without evidence a day?"

"No."

"Seven!"

"No."

"Five! Or find yourself a new DMLE Director!"

"Alastor, this is your last warning: stop wasting your time on this wild goose chase. No searches without evidence, or I take away your Time-Turner."

"Deal! Albus, I think Skeeter works for Voldemort."

"She is a journalist. Spinning dirt is her bread and butter. It all falls under a concept we call freedom of speech."

"Let's ban freedom of speech."

"No. If we ban something, it would only increase its popularity."

"But Albus! The bitch calls me an angry Auror arse-bandit in her articles! She is smearing our image!"

"It is your own fault. You say "arse" only slightly less often than "constant vigilance." Now why would you tell a man "I'll stick my peg leg so far up your arse that the moisture on its sole will quench your thirst?"

"Have you seen that oaf?" protested Moody. "He missed his targets from twenty meters off! I don't know who he bribed to get in! He refused to learn! You know I only insult people to motivate them to work harder or to check what methods they pick for their fantasizes of killing me. But this whelp started crying! What kind of an Auror would he become?! At least now he lives a quiet civvy life. Alive and well. The love to complain, but why is it that every time somebody gets in deep shit, they call me for help?"

"You are no longer an Auror. You are the Director of the DMLE. Try to act the part. And leave Skeeter alone already. If anything happened to her, we would have a hard time proving it was not you."

"But Albus! Her articles make it sound like you are Sadomaso von Dom. It's Voldemort's lies! She is humiliating the Order!"

"Alastor... It is a sensationalist hoax. People have the right to think and say what they will. What would you have me do? Send the Order to picket the streets with signs "behead everyone who accuses us of violence"? Sentence Skeeter to prison? Catch a Dementor and give her the kiss without wasting time on due process?"

"We answer him with the same!"

"How? People are afraid to talk about him. Nothing we can say will make him look any worse, we would only spread more fear. Publishing his bloodline would convince people they too can gain power through Dark magic and murders."

Alastor relaxed his mental defenses and bored into Albus's eyes.

" _People say you are a better wizard than him. I say we spread rumors that Albus Dumbledore overshadows You-Know-Who not only as a wizard but as a man. Order the Hogwarts house elves to vandalize walls with "Albus has a giant cock."  
_  
"Alastor... I thought you would propose something worthwhile. This is excessive."

"Aha! Got you! So it's perfectly fine for you to illegally use legilimency on the Director of the DMLE, but the Director of the DMLE can't use legilimency on Skeeter?"

"Enough! I always search for reasons to avoid it, while you do the opposite! This is exactly why you must steer clear of legilimency!"

"Alright then, here is another idea. Let's hit his pride. He recently turned tail and ran away from me with a Death Eater corpse. We should promote it."

"How?"

"Make a good propaganda poster! I'm sick of the "MAGICAL BRITAIN COUNTS ON YOU" horseshit. And Kingsley folds over laughing every time he sees "STOP THE DARK THREAT."

"I never imagined I would say this today, but you may be right."

"I've already drawn a sample!"

Alastor pulled out a tube and unrolled the poster.

It showed a realistic, life-size Alastor Moody in front of the looming walls of Azkaban. He was clutching a wand in his raised hand and stomping a snake and a human skull with his wooden leg. On the side was a caricature of fleeing, bleeding Voldemort, punctuated by a slogan.

"Alstor, _please_ tell me you haven't published this," said Albus, taking off his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"No. I wanted to show you first."

"A thousand points to DMLE! Do you even understand what you have done?"

"What's wrong with it?"

"You drew yourself realistically, with all your scars and injuries. Who would join if this is what awaits them? You included Azkaban, the worst part of Britain, a painful reminder of the Ministry's mistakes. And Dementors, who are now one of Voldemort's most terrifying symbols. You also drew a realistic image of your wand. Many people believe a short wand points to all sorts of character flaws. But all of this is more or less tolerable. I am far more concerned with the slogan."

"Well, first I wanted to write "DO OR DIE," explained Moody. "Then I thought "DIE BUT GET IT DONE" sounded better but changed my mind because it might discourage recruits. So I added a running Voldemort, a smashed snake and skull to symbolize the Dark Mark, and a new slogan to match."

"And it is absolutely unacceptable. I understand it is about Voldemort, but how will the people interpret it? Alastor, what were you thinking? "AURORS: MAKING THE BALD MAN CRY"?!

* * *

 **Albus Dumbledore**

Albus studied the cursed muggle painting. If only Tom channeled all this talent into something peaceful…

The painting stirred up some very disconcerting thoughts. He stopped by the Department of Mysteries to check the Mirror of Erised. A fake… This meant opening another internal investigation to see whether Tom was in league with the Board or the Unspeakables...

Albus turned his attention back to the painting. Untold amounts of Dark magic swirled within almost unnoticeably. The curse was vampiric in nature, overlayed with some inverted modules from the Mirror of Erised that tricked the viewer into believing the painting to be their deepest desire.

No curses surprised him anymore, but this one was close to flawless: seductive whispers in place of brute force, drawing power from the victim rather than any external sources. Of course he didn't plan on destroying it. After the last battle, Albus started preparing new aces to play. Life was infinitely more complex than a duel, and he very much doubted he could win by self-sacrifice alone. He was on the lookout for something special…Efficient…

Tom always took care not to leave behind body parts, but now… How terribly sloppy. Putting aside the practical difficulties, one could substitute body parts with personally charmed objects. This might do, after painstakingly long and complicated processing. He would never stoop this low, but Tom had already performed the sacrifice. Albus needed only to alter the painting. A year ago he would have found it impossible...

Albus opened his safe and took out the Potters' cloak. The third Hallow. He had all the reasons to believe that the Peverells added invisibility to this masterpiece as an afterthought, to fool potential thieves of its real value. Using the Cloak to stay invisible was no wiser than using the Elder Wand for picking out earwax.

The Cloak blocked any and all magic. Albus had his own workshop isolated from ambient magic, and it still failed to block everything, introducing flaws into every artifact he created. The Cloak overshadowed his workshop as much as the Elder Wand overshadowed ordinary wands.

Alas, this was not a time for research. Albus knew enough to use two Hallows to turn the cursed painting against its creator. And then, Tom's dreams of immortality and absolute power would become his own damnation, horcruxes or not. He must only rest his eyes on the painting...

* * *

I was sitting in the study and reflecting on results.

The war marched on its regular course. Yet another attempt to eliminate Moody ended with nothing. It was all right, I'd get my hands on him one of these days. Meaning, Elena's hands. The Dark Lord's right hand crushing Albus's right hand. It had a ring to it.

The last full moon shattered all records with the number of killed werewolves. The idea to turn muggles into disposable soldiers was brilliant. We now sent werewolves ahead alongside Dementors and supported them from brooms.

The latest combat operations brought mixed results. Poor Ted Tonks heroically perished while serving the Dark Lord under Imperius. I couldn't decide whether to mark him, so he died from sacrificing both arms for a Dark spell.

A new camp opened near Rowle's home. He wasn't a particularly good choice, but the rest were worse.

And now it was time to make a trek to Africa, where my people had been negotiating with magical crime rings over prisoner deliveries. They sent back unpleasant news that the riled up locals could do something stupid. The Dark Lord ordered Rosier to take care of it, with Elena Ivanova as his interpreter.

Soon I was in Africa, feeling like an Eskimo at the beach. Magic replenishment slowed tenfold. As for the scenery... I was no expert, but the nature of Burkina Faso didn't impress me.

Rosier led the negotiations, surrounded by two dozen of our people, me included. In a world where everyone used translation artifacts, a live wizard interpreter made for a powerful status symbol.

The local magical underworld was represented by nearly three dozen wizards, two humanoid golems and a beast that looked like a cross between a sphinx and a griffon. Most of the wizards were African, some European mercenaries between them.

It made no sense to put myself in the spotlight when Rosier would do no worse. If curses started flying, who'd be the first target? The liaison and his bodyguards. Who would ever bother with an interpreter?

Then began the mind-numbingly boring negotiations. The situation was complicated by the fact that the Africans wanted a number of rare ingredients on top of gold.

"You may call me Zalika," said a scraggy elderly woman, stepping forward.

"My name is Jack Smith, and I have the unfortunate honor of escorting the Dark Lord's representative," I said, casting a dejected look around. The rest of our people wore masks, and I alone was hiding with polyjuice. Again crunching on these damned vials... At least teeth were easy to replace… "We are gathered here today to discuss the terms of trading muggles that will serve the noble cause of preserving Dark magic in our world."

"We demand double the gold," she declared and went on to list ingredients ranging from knotweed to dragon blood.

I maintained a link to Rosier's mind, trying not to slip too deep. He had let me in in advance on the Lord's orders, in case he needed to ask for advice or relay the signal to attack. Abidemi had given us some wooden amulets he swore would protect from the local detection methods.

But Rosier needed no assistance. I immediately started translating his words.

"Preposterous! What are you using to catch these muggles, expensive paralyzing potions? They are dying of starvation, a drunk squib can collect them! Our last offer was more than generous. We are not in the business of bartering ingredients! Gold is enough! If anything, you owe us a refund! We paid for adults, but you tried to peddle us a third of illiquid leftovers! We'll pay no more than one-sixth of the full price for children under five. They yield barely any blood or organs, and I'll soon develop nearsightedness from opening them up!"

The haggling started. Eventually, they agreed on one-third per child.

"They must comprise no more than a tenth of the total lot!" said Rosier. "For all their uselessness, they are as much hassle as adults."

It dragged on and on... Our opponents tried to feel us up. Abidemi's peer, whom I identified by drugged eyes and a bone nose piercing, started grumbling something about powerful spirits but quickly fell on his knees, throwing up bile. The woebegone shaman's friends carried him away. Another wizard tried legilimency and received an attack in return. He rubbed his temples but stayed in line.

"No dragon blood. No ingredients above class seven whatsoever! Your muggles aren't even worth class five!" Rosier cut her off again.

The tempers kept rising. They gave up dragon blood and human parts but wouldn't budge on other ingredients.

"The price is still outrageous!" Rosier argued. "We are paying you to haul off your muggles. You'll be rid of them AND make money! I want a deal like this for myself! How about we sell you British muggles on the same conditions? Oh, you don't want them? Then why should I care for your offer?"

"So what is it you want?" The woman furrowed her brow.

"We are ready to give you half the gold and a third of the ingredients. It's more than they are worth!"

It was Rosier's turn to drown in a wave of indignation from the Africans. Some of them reached for their weapons.

"If I agreed to your insane demands, the Dark Lord would kill me where I stand!" he exclaimed. "For that much money, your muggles must shit gold!"

"Any wizards worth their salt make their own fortune, not beg for handouts," Zalika paid back in kind.

This went on for three hours… What were they waiting for?! This sort of emotional bickering made for a perfect a surprise attack! I already gave them everything: got distracted myself, distracted my people. Our team holding the perimeter was playing brain-dead orangutans, no one was paying attention – just come from behind and strike! Why wait? For our protections to drain us? Never going to happen. I already had a sore tongue and a migraine from these cretins!

"Fine! But we won't go any lower!" Zalika gave in. Judging by her expression, she too got winded.

"Hrmm," hummed Rosier, "all right, how many do you have right now?"

"Three hundred and seventy six," the woman bit out. "We can double it in a month without drawing attention."

"Deal. The delivery is on you. I'm done transporting this filth."

"No deal! We are busy with our own problems here, keeping the competition from stabbing us in the back!"

Oh, when the fight finally erupts, they'll all get a taste of the Dark Lord's wrath! I'll show you a heated argument!

But the impossible happened: they reached an agreement in under twenty minutes. They must have discovered our backup and decided not to tempt fate.

"We will sell to you if you prove you are honorable wizards. Sign a magical contract!"

Things were about to explode.

"I give you my word as the Dark Lord's faithful servant! His word is my word!" Rosier screamed with strained voice. He now wanted to burn this rotten old bag alive as much as I did.

"The word of a murderer who hides his face is not worth much!"

"More than the word of a squib good for nothing but catching muggles!" he was getting more and more worked up. "The Dark Lord is the most powerful wizard in the world! He might consider losing suppliers a fair price for punishing those who dare insult him! I am doing my best to avoid it, conceding to the lowest possible price! This is our final offer. If you decline, the negotiations are over. I'll enjoy watching you get raped by giants, then personally stuff your saggy gut with live snakes! We are not old friends meeting over a pint! Your ludicrous demands and insulting the Dark Lord make me think negotiating with you is a waste of time!"

The moment of truth finally arrived: they start a fight or eat everything up.

"I challenge you to a duel!" announced the woman furiously.

To be honest, I didn't know who would win as I never tried scanning her. Abidemi warned that some shamanic amulets could register my spells.

"You? Challenge me?" replied Rosier. "I kill a dozen of your kind every day! Take two more to help you, and I'll let you fight my interpreter out of pity."

Yes, this was our plan. We would then spread rumors that the interpreter prayed to Voldemort and won. Though we planned for a one on one fight... Damn it, Rosier, why did you have to be so sensitive?

I had no access to the woman's mind but easily imagined it. If anger didn't cloud her judgment, she was thinking of how to use this to her advantage.

"Two of my men against your interpreter," she said, switching to English. "If he wins – what we agreed, if he loses – my first offer."

"Deal," said Rosier.

While they were discussing the rules, I thought over the situation. How to beat them without losing cover? Kill both in a single hit with something not too Dark, giving them no opportunity to note my style. I slid my hand into my inner robe pocket to sort through the wands. Elena's – no, too memorable. A few more joined it on the side. Although… why not? Nicholas Flamel from the Order of Death had to occasionally charge his Stone, right?

On to my opponents. One was a classic African with a staff. As far as I knew, staves trumped wands in raw power but considerably lost in fine control. Then, a couple of crude, forceful attacks were to be expected. The second was a familiar-looking European mercenary. We had hired him once or twice. Skilled but nothing noteworthy.

I had a good plan: my recently developed coherent radiation spell, more commonly known as laser. Tests showed I severely underestimated it. Anyone without protection from light died on the spot. A shield capable of stopping it also stopped all visible light, effectively blinding the opponent. Pre-applied light filtration charms did render this spell as harmless as a lighting bug, but in my experience paranoiacs who thought to use them were few and far between.

While I was thinking, they finished warding an improvised rink. We faced each other fifty yards apart. Our audience gave the signal to start.

The African hurled forth an elephant-sized fireball and tried a mental attack that didn't get through. The European targeted me with Cruciatus and Killing Curses in a row, then started conjuring Fiendfyre. They must have suspected a trick and wanted to finish this quickly.

In the same breath, I began my own attack.

"Morsus Conscientiae!" I shouted, raising my Elder Wand replica while silently creating a rainbow of laser rays.

The rays pressed against the enemy's protective charms in front of them; it looked as if we were connected by glowing multicolored strings. Both men found themselves in opaque spheres.

My shields swallowed the African's fire, leaving me to dodge the Unforgivables. They didn't measure up to the speed of light and could not change trajectory like a whip, so it was more than doable at this distance.

I sent out two wandless Killing Curses, mixing them with the other rays and muffling the sound.

While the European was busy conjuring Fiendfyre and the African kept on trying to roast me with flames of his own, two of the many green rays passed right through all the magical barriers, instantly killing them. Their protections vanished, and the rest of the light reached the bodies. Both were seared before they hit the ground.

The fight barely lasted two seconds.

As rumors would later whisper, no one knows who bought African muggles, but his interpreter wielded an elder wood wand and used the spell "Pangs of Conscience."


	47. How to Con a Phoenix

I was talking to my familiar, who sulked on a perch in my home.

" _Nagini, I know you can do it. You are the most beautiful Phoenix in the world. All birds wear these feathers. Remember not to twist, and most importantly, whatever happens, keep quiet. It is his job to sing, not yours. You need only stand still and look your lovely self. He will approach you on his own,_ " I gently encouraged her. Why not? It worked on humans.

Nagini raptly listened and agreed. She would soon return to the training room to practice on a Phoenix replica – a transfigured non-magical bird I was controlling.

The first attempt sunk when Nagini chatted the dummy up in Parseltongue. On the second try, she tried to twist around it like a mating snake. I finally convinced her to stand still and ignore the singing, but half an hour later she lost her cool and gouged out its eyes.

Now we were making some semblance of progress. The only issue came up immediately before the deed itself, when the birds must feed each other. Via regurgitation. First of all, I couldn't teach Nagini to regurgitate at will and had to whip up a potion. Second, she stubbornly refused grass and other Phoenix foods. Fawkes would surely suspect something if a potential mate offered him meat. I also had to test her saliva composition one more time. Something about her saliva looked off, it might expose her...

I couldn't stop thinking about how low I had fallen. Less than a year ago Voldemort was a Dark Lord who struck horror into the hearts of an entire nation. Now I was a bird matchmaker. If immortality and seizing power fell through, I'd get a job at a pet store and persuade rare creatures to breed. Coach them to do it by the book... Or better, draw on my experience with Lily and Bella to work as a psychic specializing in breaking people up. With occasionally lethal results. "Your trouble and strife shall leave you for life!"

But in all seriousness, "operation seduce Fawkes" turned out not as simple as I thought. Tom knew a great deal about magical creatures – how to avoid them, how to kill, butcher and use them in potions and rituals. I learned more in the past few months but never thought to focus on their mating or diets.

I was again nervously flipping through the most ludicrous book I had read in my entire life. _The Flames of Love_. Five hundred pages on Phoenix habits and not a word about magic. Nothing but field notes of an expert ornithologist. From a formal viewpoint, Phoenixes shared many traits with nightingales, peacocks and parrots. The male would sing, show off his opulent plumage and perform tricks to prove his status. The female would watch and wait to be awed. If she liked what she saw, she'd accept the courtship that consisted of grooming each other's feathers, gazing into each other's eyes and vomiting into each other's mouths. If both birdies were satisfied, they'd begin a chain of jumps around the world, taking turns side-apparating each other until the female took them to the spot where she had set up a nest – or in our case, a trap. There, the birds mated, and the female later laid one egg. If they were lucky.

No, this book answered all my questions about the mechanics. But I still hadn't the faintest idea what Phoenixes found attractive in females. What if Fawkes did not fancy her or called Albus? To heal her, for instance? Nagini needed makeup, but I didn't know what to hide or accentuate. She had no cleavage or bum to speak of, her four-toed legs bent in the wrong direction… In short, I was no judge of Phoenix beauty. What then, manipulate him? In Parseltongue? How did these birds discern an attractive personality if the partner stayed silent? I also couldn't ignore the possibility of Nagini feeling sick from the real Phoenix song...

I needed an expert in magical creatures. And I knew just where to find the best one.

I inventoried Death Eaters' pantries for an illegal but not particularly deadly creature, then found a prisoner capable of using a quill to write a letter to Newton Scamander:

 _I accidentally found myself in possession of a Tibetan Quasicorn. I am a big fan of your books and don't know who else to turn to. Our Ministry would kill him and arrest me if they find out. Please help us. Take him somewhere safe, or I will be forced to abandon him._

The owl left, and I returned to trying to process what I just read. Everything in nature, both magical and mundane, was balanced. Phoenixes never died of old age, so I assumed they had serious reproductive difficulties. And oh, they did, indeed… I narrowly stopped myself from burning the book when I reached that part.

Phoenixes mated like ordinary birds. But for a female to lay a viable egg, they required… Love! Meaning, two birds not mutually in love could score all they want without producing any offspring! What a load of unicorn manure. Babies came from fertilization. One egg cell plus one sperm cell, love had nothing to do with anything!

I struggled to believe it, but this book, every documented attempt to breed Phoenixes and testimonies of Phoenix owners all agreed that they in fact did not multiply without love.

This was more than a little disconcerting. Wizards and familiars shared an intimate connection. The stronger the animal, the more it affected its bonded human. I appreciated the slight improvements in apparition and fire-based magic but could only hope Nagini didn't give me their love fetish! Well, she was not quite a Phoenix, right? Actually, why worry at all – if worse came to worst I could always kill her for good.

Dumbledore had an unnatural obsession with love... Was it his familiar's influence? No, ridiculous. Plenty of people bonded with owls and cats but never developed a taste for mice or catnip...

I finished brewing the last of Nagini's regurgitation potion, then tinted her feathers into brighter, hopefully more seductive colors. These predominated in mating birds, so maybe it was their sexy pattern? Red and gold. Gryffindor!

With that, I received the news: Scamander sent a reply with the place and time to deliver the Quasicorn. Soon I was already waiting in an empty field, polyjuiced and in destitute clothes, securely packaged Quasicorn in hand. The plan was simple. Scamader was friendly with Albus, but I didn't offer him anything to warrant bringing help. This mountain goat with a single spiral horn was harmless save for its noxious gases and poisons brewed from its organs.

My target arrived via apparition and scurried to check on the Qasicorn. The otherwise routine capture turned interesting when I got attacked by a menagerie of small critters he had on him. Did he hide them in his pockets or what? Some little wooden doll, a flying green stingray, spheres with teeth… All equally easy to burn. After thoroughly frisking him and finishing off the last of the creatures, I took him to one of our unused bases for interrogation.

Just to think that I had originally set out to find a specialist in Phoenixes… No, he had done that part perfectly. Nagini needed contact lenses right away. Her solid black eyes were completely off-putting, black eyes surrounded by a wide white ring signaled "ready to mate." And her saliva was a bust. Entirely wrong composition. So what, remove her glans? There must be a more humane option, some potion to guarantee dry mouth… I'd also have to teach Nagini to bend properly by aligning her body parallel to the ground, or Fawkes would think she is not in the mood and leave...

But I also came across an altogether different treasure trove of information. History profoundly downplayed Scamander's role in the war against Grindelwald. What a humble little lamb. His head was bursting with priceless memories: experience with Obscurials, Albus's war efforts, Grindelwald's attempts to create his own version of the Resurrection Stone to raise an army of undead... Way to go, Grindelwald! I finally found a kindred spirit. I knew I couldn't be the only one to believe the Stone ought to work this way! Bam – and all the dead rise as your loyal servants! If muggles correctly estimated humanity's age and numbers, it meant a hundred billion potential soldiers. Soldiers who needed no food or rest, obedient to the point of suicide on command.

By far the most exciting discovery was his memory of meeting an Obscurial in Sudan. He had separated the smoky entity from its human host! Had I known that, I would have never left Ariana at Crouch's! Where to find another Obscurial… Half of the Order would sell me their souls and their firstborn for this knowledge! And what if we pulled off what Scamander had done to the Obscurial on our Tlahuilopochtli, except in reverse? Merge the creature with a human? Humans were perfectly controllable. No, that was unlikely to work… But embedding its cocoon into a human body might… I wouldn't say no to a personal prophet...

I was again revising my plans while my parallel self returned to interrogating Scamander. After topping him off with Veritaserum, I asked his opinion on Nessie's photo. He diagnosed her pregnant – deduced it from the shape of her horns and the color of her iris! Now that Russian's vanishing act made more sense. To my question about her due date and the number of eggs he replied that it was impossible to tell from a photo. And that there would be zero eggs because her species birthed live broods. Oh how I hated feeling like an idiot… Maybe release all of the anaconda-sized babies into Loch Ness? Muggles would have a blast… No, I could use them myself.

Between training Nagini and checking the Lestranges' drawing of the Phoenix trap, I received a message from Nott. He finally caught Lockhart's werewolf healer.

Lockhart proved to be a true master of his craft. It took me two full days and a convoluted ritual to retrieve his victim's memories. In the end, the withered old Armenian recalled every last second of his life down to the experience of crawling out of his mother's womb. The ritual maimed his body beyond repair, so all I could do was slow the decay and collect his memories to watch later.

People who bemoaned the magical world's decline could not be more wrong. The supply of magical genius was inexhaustible. This wizard here wanted to earn his laurels by saving the werewolves from their curse. And he almost created a permanent version of the modern Aconite potion.

The price of this invention was typical for Dark magic. To receive something, it must be first taken from elsewhere. And it was no dried slugs. Werewolves mating on a full moon birthed wolves with a human mind incapable of turning into a human. Our healer experimented on a few of these wolves, creating a potion based on their embryos; a werewolf who drank it could then be temporarily turned back with a spell. He ultimately abandoned the project because he couldn't stomach killing for every cured werewolf. Especially cured very conditionally.

As for me, brewing potions from embryos was a fantastic idea! They didn't put up a fight and were much simpler to produce than homunculi. We could surely improve upon this. Take an embryo, have it ritually die and take the werewolf's curse with it. Or a potion based around the same principle, where a wolf fetus frees a werewolf who drinks it... It was all good and well, only limited by the number of embryos: one embryo, one cured patient. Sentient wolves were so few in number…

We had already tried breeding ordinary werewolves during the full moon, then artificially aging the offspring. For whatever reason, these wolves' embryos did not work for the old wizard's method. Other than waiting years for the next generation to grow up naturally, my next best bet was raiding the Dark Forest.

The next full moon found me flying between trees of the Dark Forest in Elena's guise and cursing my stupidity.

The plan itself was decent. Greyback's latest batch of werewolves distracted the enemy, forcing Albus into the thick of it to reduce the casualties on both sides. He'd undoubtedly succeed, but capturing the werewolves alive would not do him any good: these wolves' brains had been irreparably damaged with Dark magic. As a bonus, we could accuse Albus of cruel prisoner treatment.

I had entered the forest through the centaurs' territory. They definitely wouldn't tattle. Then commenced the "battle," where I stunned the wolves from the safety of midair. The entire forest yielded fourteen females and eleven males. Six more got silver shanks to the head for playing unconscious and ambushing me.

I stumbled into a predicament on the way back: a distinctly non-human ward snapped over a large part of the forest, blocking my path. And exposing Nagini for this would be a waste… When the centaurs first started chasing me, I thought nothing of it – what could these gnats do against me? As I understood from literature, battle magic was not their strong suit. They wielded nothing better than "arrows of fate": some peculiar artifact-like link between the centaur, its bow and arrows.

But the centaurs proved that wizards underestimated their magic. For one, I couldn't fly any higher than the tree tops. The broomstick I brought as a backup fell to the ground a dead weight. Second, these sorry excuses for horses somehow sensed me through concealment. Third, their arrows damaged my shields. MY shields! An average wizard would presumably die from a couple of hits because standard kinetic protections did nothing to stop them. I had an escalating urge to puzzle out the Resurrection Stone, summon all the authors of books on centaurs and give their souls a taste of real hell.

To not ignite an open conflict with another race, I subdued my hunters with humane methods. It was a mind-bogglingly ridiculous tactic: their brethren brought them back to consciousness as quickly as I stunned them. This went on for half an hour. I darted around, shouting that I got lost and simply wanted to leave.

At long last, my efforts produced some results. When the centaurs cornered me close to the border of their protective charms, they held their fire.

Let's try for a peaceful resolution first.

"Mars sure is bright today," I greeted them. I had no idea how true that was, but centaurs customarily talked about planets. What I did know was the future. I planned to shape it myself. "Jupiter heralds power to the Dark Lord. Venus says that love shall abandon the house of Albus Dumbledore. Many innocent-"

"Your words are as false as your face. The skies do not foretell this. Come down and explain what you are doing in our forest," the frontmost centaur with a severe face ordered me.

Hopefully the face comment was a coincidence… Or they sensed Polyjuice?

"You said it yourself: I interpret the skies incorrectly. We humans orient ourselves by stars. I got lost and accidentally wandered into your forest. Show me the way out, and I will leave," I said.

"Crimes beget punishment. First you must return the wolves you have stolen."

"Perhaps this first-time offender deserves a stern warning? Or a reward for ridding your forest of Acromantulas?"

"I am Bane, the leader of this flock. Who are you to presume you can give us orders?"

"Nobody important."

"Stow away your weapon," he said, casting a pointed glance at my wand.

"Only after you put away yours."

"No. Name yourself."

"A humble enforcer of sentences given by some to others."

"Show your face and left palm. Without distortions, mask or gloves. Or we shoot," he commanded again.

I had a good sense for lies. His last sentence was anything but.

Seeing as I stood surrounded by a herd of ticked off centaurs, I decided to project peaceful intent and bide time to prepare an attack. I kicked myself for not researching centaur preferences beforehand. Maybe I should have brought them a bag of oats... or a mare? Judging by their act, they'd be partial to Abidemi's smoking blends...

I was more than willing to reach a truce. What did we have to contest, the scarcely populated forest? They were good in my book: caught me on their own devices, did not alert Albus. I was not conceited. If I caused any damage, I'd reimburse them. Send werewolves to plant new trees or anything else they wanted done…

Portraying selective hearing in the face of over fifty magical arrows aimed at me, I pulled off my glove and mask with a wandless spell, then raised my left hand in a gesture of greeting. I didn't expect any pitfalls. Divination was a wooly discipline on its own, and centaurs preferred predicting global events. "War is coming," "famine is coming," "innocents will die." I needed no prophets to know that! I even knew precisely where it was going to happen: Africa. Nobody would mind a couple thousand extra deaths amidst the civil war in Ethiopia.

The centaur leader studied my hand, and I wanted to laugh. What was he going to see in a muggle woman's palm? I harbored healthy scepticism for all predictions, unless authored by Tlahuilopochtli. In the meantime, I kept trying to breach his mind with legilimency. The resistance was not exceedingly powerful – it was exceedingly strange. I could only speculate about him.

"What strange lines," he muttered darkly. "This one is straight as an arrow. You are tenacious in pursuing your desires."

"Yes, very much so." I nodded, holding in a chuckle. Another charlatan. Every living being wanted something and pursued it, even if it was food.

"But as of late, you have been struggling to achieve your goals in spite of your persistence."

Yes, struggling to escape from here. It applied to everybody. Nobody had everything they wanted. Although… what if he meant the Hallows or immortality? And most of my other projects were lagging…

"A bizarre life line, as if made up of two mirrored parallels. Is our executioner living a double life? Or has lived twice?"

Did he assume duplicity an integral part of a Dark witch's character? Two lives, one before becoming a Death Eater and one after? No, he couldn't possibly learn of my appearance here. Could he?

I tensed up and pushed harder against his mind, not forgetting about the area attack. Better hurry before this moron decides to spit out a prophecy. Thus far, he only tried to divine the qualities of the person before him.

"Your heart is cold and staggeringly empty," he announced.

But my bedroom was steaming hot, so don't you badmouth me! I had my perfect Bellatrix. She never used a Time-Turner, yet it was I who felt fucked out of my wits!

"Hrm…" The centaur scrunched his face like a weightlifter under a heavy load. "A twisted fate. Death… So much death..."

Yes, much. Maybe offer him to teach Divination at Hogwarts? I wasn't racist, would implement diversity quotas…

"How would you like to pledge your support to the Dark Lord? He can destroy Hogwarts, return the land to you and restore everything to the way it was before these pesky humans," I proposed.

"We shall never wear executioner garbs," he said smugly.

"There is no need to kill anyone. You will only be asked to withhold aid from the Dark Lord's enemies and allow his people free passage through the forest. You have no quarrel with werewolves, do you? In practice, nothing would change for you."

"A murder with someone else's hands is murder all the same."

Where were all these diehard idealists coming from?! If they rejected my offer for rational reasons, I would understand. Did Albus bite them? An airborne pandemic of gryffindorness and the greater good?

The centaur stared into my eyes with vacant gaze. It looked and felt nothing like legilimency. He could try all he wanted. My occlumency was impenetrable, especially to cheap horse tricks.

"What are you?" he asked, expression tensing even harder. "Eyes are passageways into the soul, but yours lead to an obscure place under a different sky."

I felt nothing throughout it all! Forgetting all about stealth, I hit him with full-force legilimency. He was in fact using some genuine centaur-brand divination... I cut him off with a Confundus before he could utter another word. No more games.

The creature tried to jump off the hook and order the herd to kill me, but I had time to paralyze and finish him off. The world lit up in a flash of Fiendfyre spreading in every direction. All nearby centaurs and trees got obliterated in the blink of an eye.

It was awfully bright and loud. I had to run before any retired transfiguration professors showed up to investigate. Now that the centaurs scattered, my high-speed flight felt much more pleasant. It took complete focus – after all, flying was essentially a self-applied levitation charm, and performing two different spell simultaneously felt worse than writing a different text with each hand. And here I was, flying, scanning the ward, batting off stray arrows and blowing the most audacious horses into giblets.

The thick carpet of dark snow-sprinkled trees was nearing the edge of the centaurs' ward. I would have liked to say I felt a hint of alarm or discomfort. But no – a cascade of someone's spells surprised the wits out of me. I crashed into a suddenly materialized wall and bounced into the nearest heap of snow like a rubber ball.

And then I found myself on the receiving end of Azkaban-worthy curses. The enemy, who had demonstrated admirable accuracy taking me down, did not put their best foot forward here. Every single attack missed. Not a bad tactic, to force me to dodge some spells step into the path of others.

Now, a question: who in Hogwarts had no qualms about Dark magic but couldn't use it against a human to save his life?

"Hello, Robert," I called him out. "The Dark Lord will gladly welcome you and forgive your past transgressions. We have no bans on magic. You can set your own limits, and your salary will far exceed the groundskeeper's."

My answer was an ice storm and a colossal lightning.

"We both know you stand no chance against me without Dark magic," I said, pausing to send forth a volley of curses that couldn't all be taken on the same shield. "I am much stronger than the woman who wrecked you last time." I continued to try to overwhelm him with simultaneous euphoria and torture curses, with a dash of boiling blood in between. "Fine concealment amulet, by the way. Albus's handywork?"

While the opponent was wrangling my now average Fiendfyre, I slashed my wand with concealment charms for every spectrum of senses and chugged a couple of potions. In the surrounding darkness barely broken by distant flashes of fire, it would take Pandora and my shaman working together to detect me. Abandoning the senseless battle, I ran towards the ward edge.

Alas, my amazing plan once again didn't survive the harsh reality. I heard an approaching clatter of hoofs and arrows whistling past. How many of these ruddy creatures were there?! They somehow relayed my location to Robert. The situation quickly went south. My tricks that worked against the centaurs did nothing against the human and vice versa. The magical arrows pierced centuries-old trees, transfigured steel and stone with the same ease. Robert was shielding the centaurs, who were piling in faster than I was killing them.

Having taken care of protecting his allies, he went on the offensive with a chain of quick stunning, blasting and cutting charms. There were no more trees left standing between us. I deflected it all, only to get hit with a bizarre cluster of lightning bolts every color of the rainbow. Did Albus really teach him, of all people?

The black tsunami I sent his way next dissolved everything in its path – snow, trees, unlucky centaurs. I didn't get to enjoy much relief before belatedly realizing that Albus only forbade him from using Dark magic against humans… The wave crashed against a muddy-grey spherical shield and wrapped around it. The groundskeeper looked trapped inside the ball of swirling darkness, but I was all too familiar with that shield to know better.

I wanted the kind-hearted oaf Hagrid back! The animal lover with a broken wand and three years of education who would have valiantly charged me with a crossbow...

Perhaps I should have stayed to fight, but safety always took priority. What if they held on until Albus's return? Fending off the unending torrent of arrows, I came up to the centaur's barrier to scan it. This was going to take a sore effort... I had nothing against blood magic except the process of acquiring the main ingredient. If only someone else's blood worked as efficiently...

I begrudgingly sliced my palm and pressed it against the barrier, visualizing a way out and running through possibly helpful spells. For a change, luck was on my side. I found a weak spot before bleeding myself dry, squeezed through the breach and apparated away.

* * *

Once the night visitor fled, Robert and the centaurs threw all their efforts into putting out the burning forest. Even after the flames exhausted the magic that imbued them with ravenous pseudo-sentience, the wildfire continued raging out of control. Albus Dumbledore soon appeared in the middle of the flurry, having missed the wolf thief by forty seconds. A couple broad swishes of his wand drove the fire down.

The previously serene forest blanketed in dull spring snow now looked like the aftermath of a drunk vandal party. Several square miles were barren, the ground itself vaporized five feet down. The surrounding snow melted, turning this blight into a shallow lake. A narrow scorched strip extended to the forest edge in the wake of the escaped visitor.

"Would you like to tell me what happened here?" Albus's question seemingly addressed the night skies.

Robert steadied his trembling hands and stood up straight despite feeling like a squeezed out rag. "The target, later identified by the wand as Elena Ivanova, infiltrated the Forbidden Forest," he reported. "Because the breach happened on the centaurs' side, I notified you and did not interfere until the Fiendfyre."

One of the centaurs stepped forward. "The foe burned our forest, kidnapped all sentient wolves and slain seventy-four of our brothers. From now on, the centaurs of the Forest support you in your war, Headmaster Dumbledore."

"I mourn for your loss, but it is undoubtedly the right decision," replied Albus.

* * *

Yes, things had gotten heated. It was a small miracle to escape without holes in my hide. We should try repurposing these arrows to finally shoot Moody in the head.

I leafed through this morning's newspapers. The centaurs took offense… It was all their own fault, the halfwit mules should have kept their chiromancy to themselves!

Ultimately, I had exchanged centaurs for werewolves. So be it. Centaurs were much fewer in number and didn't multiply by biting. Useless trash, not caring for anything beyond their precious moon and stars. I saw with my own eyes that they had nothing against sweeping area curses!

I held a meeting where Pandora-Elena told her heroic tale of razing half of the Forbidden Forest. The reactions divided. Some cheered for her exciting creature hunting trip, others called it a reckless stunt with unpredictable political consequences.

But the main goal had been accomplished: I now had raw materials for the cure. Limited, yet renewable materials. Muggle consultants said that each fertilized egg divided in four parts should produce four identical twins. Going by the material on hand, it added up to at most four hundred doses… so, less than a hundred liters or one largish cauldron. I'd manage on my own – I did have a Time-Turner.

While the potion simmered, I left to make arrangements for the press to cover magical creature regulations in the right light. With a cure around the corner there was no alternative but to force the events. I took out the holly wand with Fawkes's feather from my safe. Shame I never found a way to curse Albus or his bird through it…

Within an hour, I was waiting on Umbridge in her disgustingly pink and frilly home. The owner received an Imperius as soon as she stepped out of the fireplace. An interesting personality… Had circumstances been different, she would have made a perfect secretary for Rosier. I was half-tempted to breed her with Lockhart just to see the result. No, that experiment would be pointless. What do we do with the mongrel if it survived? Put down? Then why waste the time?

When all the evidence was properly arranged, I recalled some of Tom's experience and took my time killing her by feeding various curses through a blood whip. The client's wish was law – her slow and painful death had been sponsored by a group of French werewolves and veelas. They contracted Elena after learning of British barbaric anti-creature initiatives. I almost felt bad accepting the pitiful sum they'd scraped together.

I portkeyed the body to France and excused myself before the lawmen's arrival. The evidence they found included drafts of racists bills, a Phoenix feather and internal correspondence of the Order of the Phoenix that Aberforth Dumbledore, Weasley, Fletcher and Tonks helpfully shared. Of course, intelligent people would dismiss it as disinformation. But what portion of the population was intelligent? How many of them opposed me and were ready to die for abstract ideals?

Even if they believed Albus, some doubts were bound to linger. A more careful perusal of the papers would reveal a plan to chase the centaurs out of the Dark Forest. As luck would have it, the Headmaster of Hogwarts recently strolled by to put out a cursed fire… And the centaur chieftain didn't make it. Purely a coincidence!

And by the way, the school's groundskeeper survived a fight against the Dark Lord's protege unscathed. Just what sort of people did Hogwarts employ? Everyone called Durmstrang a Dark wizard breeding pit, but Hogwarts… Trees alight with Fiendfyre, ex-con mercenary for a groundskeeper, Death Eater potions professor taking lessons in raising homunculi from You-Know-Who… Terrifying to imagine what was going on in the Headmaster's office! I should commission someone to write a play wherein Albus wipes the Elder Wand off a corpse, then looks into the Mirror of Erised with a sigh and laments that reforging the Earth into a demon world is taking too long...

I didn't count on convincing everyone of Albus's villainy, but every recruit was worth fighting for. This was a start.

I saw power as a trident. The first component was personal ability. I'd only grow after resolving my Dark and Light magic issues. By the same token, it would be ideal to deprive the enemy of the Phoenix, Hogwarts and the Elder Wand.

The second consisted of the power of the organization multiplied by the loyalty of its members. It meant increasing recruitment and reducing the losses of non-replaceable soldiers. For the enemy, it would be best to sic the Order and the Aurors on each other. With Moody out of the way, their foot soldiers could be influenced with well-tailored propaganda. Physically eliminating the enemy had its uses, but not to the point of crippling our own country so much that it must rely on immigration.

This tied into the third part: judicial power. The possibility to impose will without violence. We did have some friendly faces in the Ministry, but any meaningful power needed the majority, and, once again, removing Albus. I also thought about working my own way in as a member of the Slytherin or Gaunt family. Why not? It worked for Lenin and Robespierre, and they killed far more people than I had!

Strictly speaking, this war was unnecessary. Tom had simply taken advantage of a historical window of opportunity. The magical world usually included a segment of old and powerful wizards who could team up to nip an ambitious upstart in the bud. Most of the contemporary ones perished in the war with Grindelwald, the following unrest and outbreaks of dragon pox. Their descendants stewed in resentment over unfair division of trophies and the election of the first muggleborn Minister in the history of Britain. When fate itself cleared out the competition and gifted you many young allies, it was only reasonable to accelerate the inevitable civil war...

A week later I learned that Albus had attended a closed hearing in France… where he somehow used his familiar as a witness to convince everybody of his noninvolvement in the feather affair. I was entirely too tired and desensitized to his stunts to be surprised anymore. Maybe Albus really was gay? He always knew how to wiggle out of a tight hole.

I kept on working. My followers revered me as a great wizard, but I often felt like the second coming of Lockhart. No more than a third of my accomplishments were original developments. I simply picked up pieces of other people's work and rearranged them to suit my goals. This time plagiarism brought us an experimental cure for lycanthropy.

In three more weeks I tested the potion on restrained werewolves. It made them thrash as good as Cruciatus, but the entire batch survived and gained the ability to keep their human mind in wolf form.

Some of the more depraved bastards led by Greyback declined the cure. Because it robbed them of the animalistic prey drive! I didn't object. There was never a shortage of work for maniacs. In a perfect world, they'd break the enemy's vanguard and lay down their lives in the last decisive battle. It would inspire a new bestseller: Greyback the Freedom Fighter. The hero of all werewolves! His sadism, pedophilia and cannibalism nothwithstanding – a war hero was allowed some character flaws as long as he used them against the enemy.

Now the cure was due to be weaponized. A dozen doses in my pockets, I went back to the werewolves I had once introduced to Lily.

Their huts looked more grimy and run down than I remembered, some scorched by recent fire. The same glowering pack of eight werewolves approached me head on.

"Wizards are not welcome here. Get out," said the leader, whose face sported several new scars.

I looked into his eyes for his name.

"I've already been here once before, Martin," I said, rolling up my sleeve to show him the Dark Mark. I was so sick and tired of being stuck in this waifish woman's body… The crosses we must bear for the cause... "I come with an offer you will not refuse."

"I still prefer you leave," he repeated in a softer tone.

I said you won't refuse! And you didn't even want to listen!

It didn't take much effort to stun eight unprotected human bodies and pour the potion down their throats. Schooling my face into a manic grin, I brought them back to consciousness.

"Welcome to the Dark Lord's army!" I declared and silenced the return stream of profanities. "Any volunteers to transform and feel the difference?"

"What was that? Poison?" said Martin with a snarl, realizing from the rotten aftertaste and slowly fading convulsions that he didn't wake up from an innocuous time-out.

"A cure. You now retain your mind in the wolf form."

With the help of some subtle mental prodding, one of them volunteered to try. True to my words, nothing bad happened. Of course, they then tried to kill me by simultaneously turning into wolves, but Cruciatus calmed them down. Just the gratitude I expected...

"I am going to write off your behavior as shock. Turn back this instant, or I switch to Killing Curses," I warned.

The wolves turned into humans, and I transfigured them decent robes.

"How's this swill any better than Wolfsbane?" Martin asked.

"It is not swill, it is a medicine worth life in Azkaban. One dose lasts forever."

"Yeah, so? What does it change?"

"Nothing. And everything. You no longer have the "I forgot my Wolfsbane and the beast took over" excuse. By the Dark Lord's will, you are citizens of Magical Britain with full human rights and responsibilities. You may own wands and property, trade, live however you desire within the bounds of law. Turning others is allowed with mutual consent and a permit from our administration."

"You wizards will never accept us," he scoffed.

"The wizarding Ministry won't. The Dark Lord extends you a beneficial offer to work for us."

"I don't believe in Death Eater generosity."

"Excellent. I hope you are skeptical enough not to expect "the greater good" drivel, either. You will not hear any empty rhetorics from us."

"Then what the blazes are you trying to pitch here?"

"The Ministry had centuries to integrate werewolves into the magical society. They never once bothered to try. We are offering you a fighting chance."

"What use do you have for us? Potion ingredients?"

"If we wanted you as cheap meat or curse fodder, we would have used the Imperius and not bothered talking. The ingredients will come from anyone who actively opposes us. You, however, are at a crossroads: continue fighting for scraps or help the Death Eaters forge a better world for us all. Those of you who decline the Dark Lord's grace will be left to fend for yourselves. Something tells me the Aurors won't take time to distinguish between werewolf factions in their preventive strikes. As for your usefulness… Even muggle werewolves inherently belong in the magical world. We have plenty of vacancies in care for magical creatures and ingredient gathering. You will receive wands and fair compensation for your work. Military service is available until we take over."

"You sing a fine tune. But you are no Dark Lord. What's to stop you from going back on your word? I can't imagine any of you privileged snoots accepting us into your society. Unless you mean putting us on a chain to guard your manors."

"I am very open-minded. The Dark Lord will gift me land as part of the spoils. You are welcome to live there. Under my protectorate."

"You mean as your servants. Why would he give you a colony? Not too rich for your blood?"

"Use your brain. Who is not afraid of you? Who would personally bring you the cure? Who can stun eight werewolves without suffering a single scratch?"

"I'm a werewolf, not a sphinx! I don't give a fuck about your riddles!" he raised his voice at me.

I swished my wand, letting my facial illusion melt into Elena's face. "Must I introduce myself or do you read newspapers?"

"You won't find many recruits here," he said grimly.

"Die as an animal or live as a man – your fate is your own. Anyone who is with me, step over this line," I said, slashing a line in the dirt between us.

Martin stood frozen as the other seven walked forward.

"You have sworn to lead and protect them. Are you going to abandon them now?" I challenged him. "Do you think the Aurors would spare you when they learn the rest have joined us? This cure won't stay secret for long. You know as well as I do how the Ministry lashes out at the faintest whiff of Dark magic. Or are you betting on Dumbledore? Even Remus Lupin, his pet Hogwarts werewolf with a wand, had enough common sense to chose the Dark Lord over the senile old man."

"Okay, suppose I believe it's permanent. Out of pure hopelessness," he said hesitantly, not meeting my eyes. "How much can you make?"

"With our current resources, up to a hundred doses per month. It should suffice if you don't turn indiscriminately. With full control of the Ministry, we can redact the laws to allow for thousands of doses per month and export it worldwide."

Grimacing as if chewing on a lemon, Martin dragged his feet to join his mates.

"You'll have a tough time convincing the rest," he said.

"This is exactly why you will be the one to do it. Since you are now my citizens, in addition to the cure, human rights and a salary-" I threw them a bag with a thousand galleons and ten wands, "you get a share of responsibilities. This is your first task. Search for other werewolves and help them make the right choice. Here are some tracking artifacts. Activate them when you secure a group, and we will come to pick them up. When the Ministry learns of the cure, the raids will start. We only defend those who join us."

"What about education?"

"Why , do you need lessons in putting one foot in front of the other? Finish one or two easy tasks first. If someone shows promise, we will teach them. Once we secure the country, we will build a Hogwarts for werewolves."

Yes, I had that idea. Only a fool would leave Dumbledore sympathizers free to raise a new generation of opposition. Sending the Hogwarts staff to teach werewolves under the threat of death held much better prospects.

I longed to bind them with vows but didn't have enough for the whole of werewolf society. Common interests would bind us tighter than any magic.

I imagined the look on Moody's face when he sees werewolves fight shoulder to shoulder with Death Eaters… And while my new diplomatic party was out gathering werewolves, I could finally get to Dumbledore's bird.

* * *

In the evening, Fawkes flew out of Albus's window to stretch his wings. Something was calling him to the forest. Thirty minutes of flight into its depths, he saw _her._ He had never before met another in this part of the world, but space was a relative thing. Fawkes almost decided to fly by when he noticed her eyes… They glistened with lust.

Fawkes showed off his best somersaults and tantalizing aerobatics. The female carefully watched him. He sang in his sweetest voice. The female attentively listened and let him approach. They lovingly brushed and fed each, then traveled all over the world in an exciting rush. At last, the female brought them to their homeland. There was a nest there. After they rubbed their bodies in culmination, Fawkes felt a little drowsy. What harm ever came from taking a nap?

* * *

This was one of the most revolting days of my life. Catching a bird after weeks of planning was child's play, I thought. Never again!

Nagini and I arrived to the Forbidden Forest disillusioned. I charmed a clearing against all known magical fauna, cast every concealment spell I knew on one tree and propped her on it.

Albus left for yet another court session, getting his groundskeeper off the hook for Dark magic charges. It hurt to remember how much it had cost us, but I was promised he'd be tied up for at least six hours.

The Phoenix followed the pheromone bait I had brewed from a Phoenix egg shell. With no reliable way to conceal myself, I watched through Nagini's eyes and advised her from afar. The male's song violently pounded at both of our heads. After surviving an hour of irremediable Cruciatus-level migraine, we went through the delightful experience of feeling our feathers scratched and gobbling the foul weeds Phoenixes called food. I barely kept from throwing up, but the worst was yet to come.

We had originally planned to kill Fawkes as soon as the lovebirds reach their nest in Egypt. Unfortunately, one-sided wards against Phoenix apparition simply did not exist. By the time we conjure one over the bird, it might smell trouble and panic. I had zero desire to summon an angry archwizard with the Elder Wand and a pocket army.

The plan had therefore been amended. As soon as they began mating, Fawkes received a slow-acting sleeping charm he was too distracted to notice. Because we couldn't risk spying on the birds to determine the right moment, I was forced to make personal sacrifices and stay in Nagini's mind. The whole time. Such was my cursed fate, to roam in women's heads and share all their sensations from sex. Bella, Lily, Nagini… I now had empirical proof that Phoenixes experienced orgasm.

Once Fawkes fell asleep, the Lestranges and I moved him to the makeshift ritual chamber we had dug out underneath the nest.

Nagini sat motionless on my shoulder, watching me feed other bird potions for healthy deep sleep and sprinkle him with my proprietary solution. I didn't want to linger about when Albus senses his familiar's death. The Lestranges were going to assist me in killing him permanently with a single blow.

We arranged the sleeping Phoenix on the slab of obsidian and read the spells. With one precise swing, I buried a goblin blade in his stomach. The bird did not wake up and felt no pain as the ritual drained its legendary life force through the open wound. In another seven minutes of synchronized waving of five wands, Fawkes ripened. Now that he could no longer be reborn, it was time for my little sideshow.

I dramatically glided my hand over dying Fawkes and commanded: "Reveal your true form!"

My plan was simple. I had conducted a casting for Ariana Dumbledore look-alike among the female prisoners. Plastic surgery and healing potions quickly adjusted the winner into a perfect copy. I then transfigured the drugged woman under Imperius into clear, non-absorbable liquid and poured it over Fawkes before we began the ritual. All that was left was reversing the transfiguration with a bit of flair.

It looked jaw-droppingly impressive: Fawkes's bleeding body billowed with black smoke that condensed into a nude, dazed Ariana. She got hit with a binding curse and fell over. Raising the wand, I conjured a well of darkness. The suddenly materialized crack in the fabric of reality began to consume the Phoenix and the woman. An eerie disembodied moan echoed around the cave, and the blackness swallowed them both. Unfortunately, it did not intend to stop. My will alone held it from swelling further.

I didn't arrange all this theater for my assistants. We had brought in a large audience: nine muggles and wizards ready to collaborate our own memories in any way the court orders. We'd give them live witnesses! At my signal, the Lestranges portkeyed everyone out through a one-way backdoor in the ward. I took another second to make sure the curse dissolved all the evidence, then, surrounded by closing in black haze, followed them.

I wondered how long it would take Albus to show up. Seconds to leave the court, several more to understand what happened and where… Would he confide in anyone about Fawkes's death? Order of the Phoenix without a Phoenix… Did this make us the new Order of the Phoenix?

In the meantime, having jumped through seven apparition points and four times by Phoenix, I met up with the Lestranges to thank them for their faithful work and hide the witnesses. Edward and Rabastan stared at my Nagini like a pair of witless children, Rabastan even asked to pet her...

I would have loved to stay and celebrate, but my other projects demanded attention. I'd scanned Bellatrix countless times, compared her to her sisters and other witches... If this last attempt didn't work, I would have to either pursue a degree in gynecology or find me a different woman.

"Bella, I trust you have already met Abidemi? I asked him to check your health," I got right down to business.

The hassles began within minutes, when Bellatrix dropped Abidemi with Cruciatus for telling her to strip naked. Upon regaining consciousness, he offered a compromise: set a bathtub into the ritual circle and place fully clothed Bellatrix in the water. This idea met much less resistance.

Bellatrix then had to be forced into smoking ceremonial herbs with a stern order. Abidemi danced in circles around her and two sacrificed muggles, shaking his grandfather's head.

It took me some time and a whole lot of willpower to overcome my self-preservation instincts. When a Dark wizard asks you to stand defenseless in an energy-collecting construct… In the end, I earnestly promised him he would die the millisecond I felt sleepy.

Now I was working as a battery. I would have thought it quackery, but Pandora-Elena saw some amorphous grey shadows flicker and intertwine with Bellatrix's body.

Abidemi took off on his usual trip into the spirit realm. When he came back and curbed the drooling, he gave his conclusion:

"It's a bad one. She is under an infertility curse from breaking a marriage vow. Can't tell what kind without looking deeper. I need a wizard for that."

Now, that was odd. Her marriage ceremony included no curses for breaking any conditions. Having scoured the prison for the most useless wizards (who, unlike muggles, were in criminally short supply), we repeated the ritual.

When Abidemi spoke again, my stomach dropped.

"She's got two sets of marital bonds. One older, with you. And a newer one, I assume with Lestrange. It's a wonder she is alive, the second ritual should have crushed her into a wet meat pancake."

"Impossible, I never married her!" I told him off.

"Did you sleep with her before her marrying Lestrange?"

"Yes."

"There you go. She must've had the power and desire to subconsciously bind herself."

"Is it even remotely possible?"

"Why wouldn't it be? At its heart, magic is willing a goal and paying for it with energy. Wand-waving and suchlike only help with precision and efficiency. Many spells have been copied from instinctive magics."

"So what – if I wished hard enough for Albus to drop dead, he would?" I wondered. Oh, I apparently said it out loud…

"If you can't do something with a wand, you do all the less without," he said.

This sent Bellatrix into one of her tirades: "How dare you! Master is the most-"

"Calm down, Bella. For his rare abilities, Abidemi has been granted the privilege to question me in private. The same goes for you, by the way," I placated her.

It was official, then. The cause of Bellatrix's condition was "the power of love"...

"Abidemi, what can be done to enable her to bear my child?"

I instantly regretted not broaching the subject with Bellatrix beforehand. She gasped and choked out something unintelligible. Right... Let's count this as me proposing and her agreeing.

"I'm no healer, but if you ask me, the first step is to remove the clash of the two bonds. See if that does it," he said.

In other words, Bellatrix needed a divorce. It would slow her combat recovery… But I had many soldiers and only one woman.

"To what source did you tie her before this?" asked Abidemi.

"The Dark Lord is the heir of Salazar Slytherin himself!" Bellatrix started again.

Shush, darling. You sound like a cheap propaganda flyer. You should have seen my inheritance – a poisoned suitcase with no handle.

"I never had one, neither then nor now," I told him.

Abidemi threw up his hands and jabbered something in his language with a series of clicks and whistles. Detecting notes of disrespect, Bellatrix put him under another Cruciatus.

"Bella, enough."

While the shaman was regaining his wits, I called the house elves and ordered them to search for any books that mention marriage ceremonies in the absence of a family source.

"We are not finished. Abidemi, prepare to repeat the ritual. Bella, bring Andromeda here. I want to see whether she has the same ailment."

Hopefully it was possible to make do without Slytherin's source. I still hadn't the faintest idea how to clean up such a severe case with no living relatives on hand. And then there was the matter of adjusting the altar stone. They were usually carved from basalt, but I planned on testing everything: obsidian, granite, anorthosite, gabbro, diorite, dunite, latite, komatiite… Oh well, it was back to cracking the books on geology and ritualistics for me. Just in case, saw off a piece of Azkaban and try it alongside the rest...

* * *

Rowle, Rosier and Rookwood were collaborating on the strangest project of their lives. First, they disassembled a live muggle to improve the individual parts. It was a most tedious chore: adjusting the blood composition, soaking the kidneys in strengthening solution, hardening the bones, charming each separate ligament to be more elastic, consulting with multiple healers and chimerologists... And then they rebuilt the body from the ground up. The first nine subjects expired, the next seven personified propaganda warnings against Dark magic and could not move on their own.

But this last one was a success. They watched the augmented male muggle under Imperius wrestle a stone golem. Bare handed. Without armor, spells or weapons. And at least to a superficial observation, it was an even match.

Moving at incredible speed, the human dived under the golem's arm and punched it square in the chest. Seven hundred kilos of rock tumbled backwards.

The human got punched in the shoulder. The brawl should have ended then and there, but the specimen received no visible injuries. He rolled with the punch, pushed off the floor with one hand into a somersault and landed on his feet.

"Amazing," Rookwood breathed out. "A muggle fighting on the level of a werewolf, unaided!"

The exchange of blows continued. However improved, the human could not keep up with the whirlwind pace indefinitely. He finally missed a strike to the head. The stone fist that burst unaltered human heads into bubotuber puss merely sent this one into knockout. Nobody ordered the golem to stop. On the second dozen of kicks, the unconscious subject's skull began to warp like soft clay. It ruptured within seconds, spraying the golem in brain matter.

"Why'd the muggle keel over if the skull held? Haven't we reinforced it this time?" asked Rowle with a frown.

"Most likely a concussion. We'll see at the post-mortem. We can now move on to the second phase of our trial."

Rookwood lived for research. But while working for the Dark Lord obviously trumped the Department of Mysteries with its draconian restrictions, the former had a vexing habit of never explaining the goals behind their experiments... Rosier already argued they organize gladiator fights with a betting pool.

Their next orders were to test whether the modifications transfer by Polyjuice. As per his hypothesis, the potion did nothing to replicate titanium skull or artificial eyes. But modified organic tissue replicated perfectly! It didn't take a genius to guess that the Death Eaters' standard potions kit would soon include Polyjuice for an improved combat body.

Personally, he would much rather continue experimenting with application of runes to muggle technology. It opened up so many exciting possibilities! Instead, his second assignment had him waste away more time in the Department of Mysteries – this time on attempts to goad the aquarium brains into cooperation. He peevishly vanished the corpse and left for his day job.

All right, observation number one thousand two hundred and eighty six. A single isolated brain subjected to the next spell on the list. Curious how it would react to this one...

The brain got hit with the Fourth Unforgivable. Excess of pleasure ran the risk of disabling the higher brain functions, but in this case no one would notice the difference. The specimen convulsed for a second and resumed its previous course as soon as he canceled the spell. It collided with the glass wall… then proceeded to bump into it repeatedly... It was tapping out some sort of semaphore code!

Rookwood's heart sang. A breakthrough! Inform the Lord right away!

No, not before preventing brains from drawing any undue attention. Then they'd have to prepare habitat vessels… Set up a diversion to smuggle the brains out of the Ministry or stage a deadly pandemic where their "bodies" disappear before they are incinerated... The rest was the Dark Lord's problem, not his.


	48. Malfoys' Curse

_Heads up for another disturbing healing ritual._

* * *

Britain boiled with unrest. Albus Dumbledore, in his eminent Gryffindor honesty, announced that we had killed his Phoenix. He spent a long time pontificating about "dark times," "the need to unite" and "stopping Voldemort from sowing seeds of discord."

Our propaganda department answered with an avalanche of dirt. For instance, Albus was so dark and degenerate that his Phoenix abandoned him.

After celebrating Fawkes's death with Bella, I honestly began considering commissioning Ollivander to make me a wooden penis. The power of love was terrifying to behold. While DMLE honchos screamed that You-Know-Who's reign of terror was about to be smashed, he already was, many times per night.

I examined Bella for the umpteenth time and put together a plan to cure her reproductive problems. Her mental health sat fine with me, though in my opinion it was obsession rather than love: "I love the Dark Lord and hate everything that is stopping me from being with him every minute of the day." Physically, her infertility resulted from a conflict of two marital bonds. Her "one-sided magical marriage" didn't harm her, but adding the ceremony with Rodolphus created a truly volatile mix. We were going to try a simple divorce before turning to Dark rituals.

Bellatrix had already outlined two schemes in advance. A true compulsive personality. Now, why would you jump straight to sacrificing your own magical ability when we had plenty of prisoners? Prisoners didn't fit? We had kin blood to spare. Just kill Andromeda. If that was not enough – Sirius.

The news of the werewolf cure didn't stay under wraps for long, either. To no one's surprise, a couple of werewolf deserters got caught and dissected in neighboring countries. The US was already making offers to buy the recipe. We pretended not to hear them. Britain got flooded with foreign werewolves desperate for a cure. We didn't have enough to go around, and it had to be earned. It wasn't my fault that our government banned Dark magic and potions!

I never did figure out what Albus had done to secure his squib Figg, but we began recruiting muggle specialists by turning them into werewolves. There was no shortage of volunteers to gain superhuman health, endurance and access to the magical world for the low price of one monthly transformation.

For now, it was high time for me to tackle Malfoy's curse. On top of all the other benefits, treating Narcissa might shed some light on Bellatrix's own curse. Having wasted scores of homunculi and embryos, I developed several ritual options. The problem was, I had but one shot to get it right.

I didn't know anyone more knowledgeable than me in Dark magic, with the possible exception of Grindelwald, Dumbledore and Flamel. Anyone of Rosier's level would have laughed at my plan. But if he knew what I did and read the books I had read, he would have circled his finger around his temple, then asked for a spot in the audience for something to reminisce about in his old age. A ruined relationship was the Malfoys was a small price to pay for this spectacle.

"Let's head out," I told my team of two dozen werewolves. We were scheduled to meet Malfoy in one of the secondary bases. I had already lifted his plans from his mind: nothing more devious than extra backup and messages to the Lord about who to blame in case of his death.

I kept mulling over whether I was making the right choice. Standard healing methods stood no chance. Sacrificial magic? Better but still insufficient, unless we give the curse another couple of centuries to wane. Sacrificing Malfoy's homunculi? It would take an outright genocide, and I had neither time nor patience to set up a homunculi Buchenwald. This ritual truly was the safest compromise. Even if I miscalculated, the Malfoys could always sire a replacement for their heir.

Lucius arrived in two hours, dressed in full Death Eater uniform. Dozens of golems and undead trailed behind him with his unconscious wife and son. Living people loved to run their mouths, and Malfoy was not so ruthless as to kill his own guards in cold blood to preserve a secret.

"Good afternoon, Elena." He rushed towards me. "Have you brought the ritual material?"

"Like you can't tell?" I chuckled, pointing behind my back at the werewolves who carried three bound bodies. "Everything as we agreed yesterday. One half-blood male, one half-blood female, and-" I spat at my feet, vanishing it before it touched the floor, "one mudblood. Plus a present from me personally – a vampire. You better appreciate it, friend. No muggle filth here."

'Friend' tenderly embraced his unconscious wife. "You came through," he said with a satisfied smile. "What do you want for the vampire? Why did you bring werewolves and a Dementor?"

"Well now, this is a business conversation," I began. "I have an important project coming up, and on top of money I'll need your vote of confidence in the inner circle."

"Politics," he nodded.

"You know it. The Dementor and werewolves are my insurance. You might have heard that I was working on a special assignment? The werewolves are fully sane."

I waved my hand to signal my team. One of them turned into a wolf and back.

Malfoy theatrically raised his eyebrows. "You have truly succeeded?"

"You bet. So, what is the story with your golems and corpses?"

"Ah, you see.." squirmed 'friend'.

"I see." I smirked at him. "A man can never be too careful."

Two consummate snakes laughed and eyed each other with newfound respect in front of their audience's white and twisted faces. Especially the vampire's. I was not watching the humans – their fear literally permeated the air.

"Everyone wishing to heal, step into the ritual hall. Your man Crabbe is standing watch there. He's already checked the drawings twice. Your lives are in no danger," I said.

"Nevertheless, I would like to see proof of our safety," said Malfoy.

"My secrets are mine to keep. You'll spend the ritual unconscious."

"I must insist," he replied.

It was time. Accelerating to the limit, I shifted the anti-apparition ward structure and gave the signal to attack. The werewolves sprung into action. I pulled the golems away from Malfoy's family to grind the stone into rubble. Jets of fire burned the undead, water and quicksand trapped all in place, conjured blades cut the limbs, an air spear exploded the lone lich's head… Nagini, adorned with plenty of defensive amulets, silently apparated next to Crabbe to snatch him away.

Fighting any further became futile – I got to Malfoy's wife and son. He went on complete defensive, trying to activate a portkey.

"Surrender!" I ordered. "Or your wife and son die."

At our signal, the scuffle stopped. It made a splendid picture: piles of dust, stone statues, scattered bones and limbs, puddles of curdled blood and one lonely pile of finely minced meat. Going down the list, my elemental transfiguration of fire, earth, water and air. On the other hand, draining myself by almost a third was terrible news. Talk about inefficient! How did Albus do it?

"The Dark Lord won't stand for this!" screamed Malfoy.

"Drop your wand, protections and guards! Don't even think about reaching for your Mark! And don't count on Crabbe, he is out!"

Malfoy didn't move a muscle.

"Are you deaf? I said drop your wand!" I grabbed and shook his son to underscore my point.

"How did you do this?" he sputtered. "Who are you?"

"Let's try this again. I am Elena Ivanova, the Dark Lord's apprentice. I am the best after the Dark Lord. You just witness it yourself. I came here to cure you from your bloodline curse in exchange for a hefty payment and a Time-Turner. I still don't see the money you promised. You think you could stroll in with your puppet squad and steal my secrets?!"

Malfoy seemed to regain some composure. "We can proceed to the ritual. You will get your money."

"Are you trying to play me for fool?" I growled, conjuring blades over his wife's and son's throats.

"No," he breathed out and threw down his wand.

The remainder of his escort stepped back to line up along the wall before losing all signs of life. My werewolves began removing stones from the golems' bodies and burning the undead. None resisted.

Excellent. I had played my part to perfection: a greedy, belligerent bitch throwing her weight around. The more idiosyncrasies, the better.

"Bring in the sacrifices," I told the werewolves. To them, this was a rare but unsurprising scene of corporate squabbles. The Dark Lord didn't care who exactly homaged him with a lavish sacrifice. You snooze – you lose.

Once I made sure everything was under control, Lucius joined his family in dreamland. I entered the decoy room with the Malfoys and the sacrifices, where Nagini was waiting to apparate us to the ritual site. Now, the runic circles here were a sight for sore eyes. I arranged all of the participants onto their respective stone slabs and got to work.

Chant the spell, pour the potion into the homunculus, stab it and the sacrifice. Repeat two more times.

Next came the turn of securely restrained Malfoys. I freed Lucius from his uniform and gave his wife and child Polyjuice antidotes before waking them.

"Rise and shine, Lucius," I said, towering over his prone form. "While you were resting, I've cured all of you from the curse. My experimental method worked… But I just couldn't help myself from peeking into your head. You are not a traitor, but I found no devotion to our Lord in your thoughts." I turned up the zeal to mimic Bellatrix. "You will pay for that. Before I slit your slimy throat, I'm going to kill your wife and child."

"You'd never get away with it! Let us go, and I'll make you rich! I swear I won't retaliate!" screamed Malfoy, reinforcing his occlumency.

The boy started wailing. Narcissa was silent.

"Between a dead bean counter and a living student the Dark Lord will choose me! Any sign of his divine attention, even Cruciatus, is a blessing!" Was I overplaying it? Probably not.

Draco cried out for their house elves. Lucius clumsily thrashed in his chains, showering me with threats and promises of money. Narcissa lay perfectly still and stared at the ceiling with unblinking eyes.

"What gorgeous hatred!" I gasped in her direction. "What spirit! The clutches of dread didn't rob her of willpower. Learn bravery from your wife, Lucius. I am going to dedicate your deaths to the Dark Lord."

This was exactly why I staged this little drama. I could dupe the Malfoys but never magic itself. Without their genuine emotions, my ritual would fail. On top of physical ingredients, it called for the two adults to be consumed by desperate, hopeless hatred. It was not my whim. It was required. It could not be faked. It could not be tuned out.

I cut their robes off with a knife and went on to slather their bare bodies in potions, chanting fervent nonsense to reinforce my image: "I offer up their lives to you, my omnipotent master… I offer up their souls to you.." If only I knew how to extract a whole soul…

The knife I held in my hand was one very special trinket. It was not a Dark artifact. Or at all magical. Nothing but an embellished mundane piece of metal. Where a real ritual knife harmed the energy field along with the body, this one would inflict perfectly mundane, perfectly reversible wounds. It wasn't as if I were going to slice up their brains!

Time to get started. I walked over to Draco, stabbed him in the heart and cut his throat in a practiced motion. Lucius's and Narcissa's deafening howls filled the room, but I didn't let them disrupt my concentration. It was already a challenge to unnoticeably keep such a small body from bleeding out. The runes underneath his stone slab lit up, activating an improvised life support system that controlled the blood flow in lieu of the stopped heart. And to prevent the boy from ruining everything, I gently knocked him out after a few seconds of wheezing.

I turned to Narcissa. The child's face radiated panic and confusion, but Narcissa here… Her eyes were a frozen blue void. No reaction to any external stimuli. Did she break? We couldn't have that.

I cautiously watched her in magical sight, remembering whose sister she was, what Bellatrix had accomplished on pure emotion. In theory, the shackles should make her incapable of wandless magic. But I took a closer look.

She was swelling with power. Streams of magic held in by the shackles coursed through her body. Very rapidly… A suicide attempt? It would have been more efficient to destroy the head, and her magic circulated evenly... Self-detonation? Perhaps not... It reminded me of one of the Blacks' tomes Bellatrix once lent me. A type of blood protection... No, my ritual had no room for foreign magic.

"Legilimens!" I said, pointing my wand at her. She threw me out admirably quickly but not before I caught sight of her purpose.

A deathbed curse. She was preparing to kill herself and take the lives of everyone in the room with her.

"You are so much like your sister, even if blonde," I stated the obvious for some reason.

How odd... She had no history of using nonverbal wandless magic, never boasted exceptional power... It was probably the blasted power of love again, good thing I noticed in time!

I slapped her face with telekinesis. Blood spurted, teeth flew to the floor, and her eyes turned lucid.

You did a fine job, Narcissa, but you were a far cry from your sister, with a low pain tolerance to boot.

One more slap. More blood followed by rekindled hatred in her eyes. She resigned to killing herself and her husband for a chance to destroy me. Her lack of proficiency in runes was the only reason she had yet to put together a spell pattern in her mind.

I hit the girl again. Such fierce hatred – the Dementor all but drooled over her. I had to wrap it up with the slapping before I broke more than just her jaw... Cruciatus at last made her go limp and lose the last of her focus. She was a fine witch. Even if she knew that her curse was no match against me, it would not have stopped her.

I froze above her with raised knife.

Actually, this wasn't half-bad. I should try bondage with Bellatrix. Tied ankles and wrists stretching the slender body… The girl's wrecked face better stay unmentioned, but her breasts stuck out oh so provocatively! Maybe try a milder variation of this position with Bella in a friendlier setting?

Fine, I'd think about it later.

I swallowed the drool puddling in my mouth, forced my mind out of the gutter, and got back to work: stabbed Narcissa in the heart and cut her throat.

She still managed to foil my efforts. Either I moved too cautiously after Draco or her breasts were too big, it ended equally shoddily: the knife didn't pierce through her entire heart. Stabbing her twice did not bode well for the ritual, but I had no alternative. This time everything went smoothly.

I stabilized her to the sound of Lucius's ear-piercing shrieks. Then he started cursing me. With plain words, not magic. After giving him some time to savour his wife's 'death throttles,' I sent her to sleep.

"It's your turn, Lucius. Your faith in the Dark Lord is far too weak. We have no room for doubters. Your feeble soul is worthless to the Dark Lord, but be proud of your family! There is no greater honor than sacrificing your soul for _His_ glory! Now, you... You deserve a real punishment. Before you die, I will feed your soul to a Dementor."

I called the Dementor and entered Lucius's frazzled mind to not miss the critical moment.

His thoughts boiled in a mad cocktail of hatred, despair, disdain and fear. I saw regret for getting involved with me, images of the Devil himself slapping me on the shoulder with approval and offering me a place in his court, where Judas would call me his sister. He hoped that no Dark Lord would protect me, that the loathing and suffering of my victims would drag me straight to hell.

It was rather funny because Malfoy had never been religious. Impending doom made people cling to the tiniest straws!

When I saw his thoughts scramble and felt the Dementor's giddy anticipation of the soul about to become his, I moved to the last step that Lucius would not be awake to see. He too received the exact same stab to the heart and sliced throat followed by a soporific charm. The key here was to keep the eager Dementor from gulping him down...

Ekeizid's shackles bound the Dementor on the last vacant rune-covered slab. I dropped the useless knife and pulled out its genuine counterpart to stab the creature. Multiple times, under acceleration charms.

The bubbling power built up by the sacrifices whirled around me, demanding to be released. I directed the stream into the vampire. The pain jolted him back to consciousness with a scream. This conflict of energies was no joke – I had been reading spells for a wizard but stabbed a Dementor. Traditionally, ritualists focused the magic through, but by my estimates no human could survive this. However imprecise, a vampire focus should handle three wizards.

I directed the flow towards Draco Malfoy. The curse, temporarily dislodged by concordant deaths, began to give in.

There were two possible outcomes. If I miscalculated, the boy would die. Narcissa and Lucius would have to make another after I tweak their memories by the Malfoy-Lockhart method. If my efforts healed the boy, they were safe to repeat on the adults.

The vampire hung slack in his chains, smoking as if under direct sunlight. In around five minutes, diagnostic charms showed Draco was free of the curse.

Narcissa went next. In the unlikely event of failure, I'd clean up Lucius's memories. Or stage an Order attack. Albus murdered your wife, what a horrible tragedy! My condolences, would you like an opportunity to avenge her?

Soon, she too was healed without a hitch. I had gotten enough practice to safely work on Lucius. But if he happened to die, I'd convince Narcissa to entrust their heir's estate to the right manager.

When I got done with Lucius, the vampire finally burst into flames. Setting a rogue vampire as a focus and dumping the rebound into him proved to be a brilliant idea. So, little fangy, burn bright and light the way for others.

With the ritual completed, I quickly healed the Malfoys' razor-thin wounds, took a sip of Polyjuice antidote and carried on to the second act of my performance.

Partially paralyzed Lucius open his eyes to my reviving spell. He moved his lips to say something. No words came out.

"So you are the cause of the inordinate excitement I felt through Elena's modified Mark," I said. "She is far too demanding of others. I only ask for your loyalty. Your occasional disrespectful thoughts or profiting from the resources entrusted to you are hardly reasons for punishment. I saved your life, Lucius."

"My family…" he rasped, choking on tears and uselessly trying to turn his head.

"They have been killed with Dark magic. Resurrecting a human after this is extraordinarily difficult even for me. What are you willing to give me in return?"

"Anything! Only it's impossible…"

Music to my ears! Too bad Lily's vow didn't fit here...

"Nothing is impossible for Lord Voldemort. But you must be prepared to pay the price."

And just like that, I gained my first volunteer for a modified Dark Mark I had previously only tested on prisoners. New Dark Mark first, then family back. It was Malfoy's own fault. His grip on the organization's finances needed close monitoring and leverage. And to leave him no time to exact revenge, I had a special plan. He'd see in a few years.

* * *

Lucius listlessly collapsed into the nearest armchair before his legs gave out from under him. Draco was soundly asleep in his room, physically healthy and with no memories of today. Lucius desperately wished he could erase his own.

Narcissa was storming around the manor, smashing furniture, vases and everything in sight. All the house elves hid away.

"I'll kill her!" she bellowed. "Then turn her into an inferus and kill her again! Did you see the way she leered at me?!"

"You can't," he said in a weak voice. "She wiped out a third of my guards without Dark magic. Moody and three dozen Aurors couldn't kill her. She beat Rosier in a duel, burned two wizards in a second in Africa-"

"Then I'll poison her!" Narcissa would not cool off. His wife was a composed woman, but today he discovered an entirely new side of her.

"How? Severus is teaching her potions. And if she died... The Dark Lord would resurrect her."

Lucius shuddered. He had watched his wife and son die butchered in a Dark ritual. But here they were, back with him and not a scar to show for it. He promised himself to take any extreme measures necessary to hide these memories. The system he thought secure had already failed twice.

He used to factor in the possibility of the Dark Lord's defeat. Not anymore. After the new control functions, he would never again be able to act the part of a law-abiding citizen. The new Dark Mark was… unique. What kind of deranged mind thought this up? Granted, it was a fair bargain for resurrection, but a slave brand would have been more humane.

The only good news was that they were all alive and cured. He had dreamed of this moment for so many years, imagining Narcissa's blissful laughter when he whisks her to the bedroom to make Draco a baby brother… Or better, a baby sister. Malfoys never had girls lest the line be broken... But now he was in no mood for love. At all.

A house elf timidly approached him. "Master, a letter for you. Urgent."

Lucius tore open the envelope, pale face growing purple with rage as he read the message. He punched the house elf in the head, knocking her to the floor.

"What is it?" asked Narcissa.

"Elena… She wants gold and more… for freeing us from the curse…"

Narcissa exploded in a rant that would have made her mother stuff her mouth with soap. Lucius got to witness a once in a lifetime scene: a bout of accidental magic in an adult. He snatched his wand and ran to put out the burning drapes.


End file.
